Trial and Execution of the Diaz Death Duo
by Tangiers
Summary: Marco Diaz, it's been my displeasure to serve you in this courtroom and my pleasure to sentence you to death. Star Diaz, you have been an unfortunate victim of this vile man. Nonetheless, you have committed atrocities that must be taken into consideration. I hereby sentence you to die. May you find peace in death, and he eternal, hellish punishment.
1. Mrs Stoneheart

**This is 100% experiment. If people like it, I ensure you I will complete it. But if I do start working on it, this will be a** ** _very_** **dark story, so viewer discretion is advised. Emphasis on very.**

 **Also, I** ** _might_** **bring some Starco into this. So enjoy this first chapter, readers. And thank you very much for reading - constructive criticism is welcome.**

* * *

 **Mrs Diaz**

Mrs Diaz fixed her husband's tie as a power move.

She knew she lacked power, as she pulled her headscarf further over her head and tugged her husband behind her like he was on a leash. Cameras clicked, and she could hear people shouting at her to turn, hoping for a shot of her face.

Rolling her eyes, she bundled herself and her husband into the black limo awaiting them. As the wheels rolled and sent them out of the place, she cursed under her breath at the idea of that damned Mewni guard suggesting she had a personal guard.

Stupid idea, anyway, as it didn't stop her current situation. Her husband slumped slightly in the limo and asked in a hushed tone about Marco. She'd been having a hard time even working out what had been going on in Marco's head.

When the police arrived and arrested him, she'd been unable to say a word. But a little voice inside her convinced her that her son was innocent, it was a misunderstanding. Then the trial began, and the witnesses began trickling in.

The first witness she could remember stood in the stand and kept their tone even. They gave a fair and honest explanation of what had happened, and there were no flaws in their story.

What she wanted to do was strangle the life from them and scream that they were lying, that Marco was _not_ a killer. He had not killed anyone, let alone how many the newspapers exaggerated.

The limo eventually comes to a halt outside their door, and Mrs Diaz must once again navigate through the paparazzi, who somehow knew she was returning home. Not even a shot of her face would she give them, as she pulled her headscarf completely over her head.

Since her face was concealed, her hands began shaking as she inserted the key into the lock. It juddered and ceased movement and the door opened before. Mr Diaz made his way into their house rather quickly, slamming the door shut.

Mrs Diaz sighed deeply, and pointed to the stack of newspapers reporting Marco's arrest and condemnation. Of course, neither of them could accept that their son was going to die at the hands of the law.

The thing she was _sure_ Marco MUST have obeyed, no matter what the witnesses said. Taking one of the newspapers, she dusted them over and blew, discovering dust gathering on it. Meaning the other newspapers were also dusty.

How long had they been there?

It didn't matter to her - she brandished it and turned back to her husband, who didn't say a word. Clearly he was having just as hard a time accepting Marco's inevitable death. They _had_ to be able to save him, they had to…

"Do you… want anything?" She was walking to the kitchen as she spoke, and still hadn't heard a word as she flicked the bottom of the kettle. Their kitchen was black and white, large and modern, with everything carefully placed.

Scraping back one of the breakfast stools, a horrible echo cracked the silence in the room. Mr Diaz followed his wife into the kitchen, and she was already pouring out some tea for herself and coffee for him.

Then she returned to the table with a perfect tray, not a single chip on it or a smear. Holding it, she gently placed it on the table and kindly served her husband his coffee. He curled his fingers around the mug, and pressed it to his lips.

"He's still in custody." Mrs Diaz notes aloud, before taking a quick sip at her tea.

Mr Diaz's eyes said more than his mouth. He was completely mute, with his skin pale and diseased - this trial took more physical toll on him than it did his wife, who managed to wake up every morning and put on her makeup.

From this point, her makeup was immaculate, and her face was caked in it. Though, to combat this, she kept herself modest with a little headscarf.

Not because the paparazzi wanted to know how it felt to have a criminal for a son sentenced to death. Why hadn't they abolished the death penalty here? She wished too much for him to spend his life with her, or at least in a cell.

"Yes." Mr Diaz agrees, practically drowning his voice out with coffee. He takes a long drag at his coffee, and she wants to tell him to say more things to her, that they haven't been speaking since their son's trial.

"For something that never happened." She reaffirms her opinion, and Mr Diaz nods in agreement, wordlessly, before putting his mug back onto the table.

A ring of it somehow forms around the bottom, and when he shifts the mug, she can clearly see it. Within seconds, Mrs Diaz produces some wipes and a coaster, forcing the mug to sit upon the coaster after wiping it clean thoroughly.

By the time he's emptied his mug, Mrs Diaz watches her husband trail upstairs like a ghost. She stays downstairs, because she doesn't want to know what he does when he's alone. If she goes to see him, she's invading his privacy, she tells herself.

Humming, she begins to mop the already unsoiled floor, going over it repeatedly. When she does put down the mop, she unloads the dishwasher and begins playing a song in her mind. As soon as she's done, she carries the same newspaper into the living room.

There's no need for her to switch on the TV, but she likes the background noise that she can't hear. All she's doing is reading about what the media portrays her son as. One of the newspapers she's collected lies on the table, with a picture of Marco.

 _The face of a killer - Marco Diaz._

In the picture, Marco stares at the camera with a look of surprise. It's in black and white, but she knows what her son is thinking - it was nonsense, he had done nothing wrong, yet as her fingers followed the words, she believed them, almost.

 _Marco Diaz pleaded guilty to the murder of six people, although his incoming execution has sparked controversy all over America, due to the involvement of what is believed to be at least one more person. Rumours have spread that Marco Diaz convinced the accomplices to commit such vile acts…_

 _Mrs Diaz, mother of local killer, Marco Diaz, known as Mrs Stone Heart, contains to give no response to the execution of her son, as does her husband. Marco Diaz was sentenced to death after a four day trial, and his mother has failed to give any emotional response…_

 _Such hateful newspapers_ , she tells herself, as she throws the other one she's holding back onto the table. Not a single word is uttered as she pushes it further away from herself, sobbing into a pillow, wishing she could turn back time.

 _Oh Marco, what have you become?_

She's still weeping and bawling by this point, her mascara streaked over her face and her lipstick smudged. Many would pay for a picture of the rather kindly named "Mrs Stone Heart" finally revealing her true reaction.

This mask would slip off her soon, and the media would quickly know what she was hiding. Sweeping up the newspapers, Mrs Diaz repeated _Marco will get justice_ under her breath like a mantra, before carefully pushing the newspapers into the right place.

Her husband was still upstairs, and she was slowly heading upstairs after him. Still, she had little desire to even talk to him, to talk to anyone.

Having reached the top of the stairs, she caught a brief glimpse of men and women crowding outside her home. Probably idiots who'd come to rant and rave about her son being a killer. Sometimes, she wished she could run away and abandon her husband.

Gritting her teeth, she turned away shiftily, before briskly making her way into the guestroom, where she collapsed on the bed, exhausted.

 _Marco will get justice_.


	2. Relief

**Marco**

He was waiting for someone to tell him he was a scumbag, a killer, a murderer. None of the labels were true - if anything, he was ridding the world of what they didn't need, potential rapists, and killers, anything bad in society.

His way of going about it perhaps wasn't the best, but it was much better than some other ways. He'd been quick, too in his actions, with a swipe to the throat, or a bullet to the chest. And they were giving him plenty of horrid names outside of this world.

Marco, bored, scratches another I into the wall, a reminder that he was here and notorious as ever. Even when they killed him, he'd still be alive, whispering between the walls and driving the other people sentenced to death insane.

How he was bored of this world, anyway. Sometimes, when he slept, he dreamt that someone tossed a knife at him. The knife bit into his skull, but instead of crying and begging for his life, he could hear his laughter, loud and ringing in his ears.

It turned out he was not laughing in his dreams, but laughing aloud to himself, and grinning at the idea of his death. They had brought him into this world and planned to take him out just as quickly, when he was _helping_ them.

 _Idiots_ , he told himself, as he drifted between consciousness and unconsciousness. Perhaps these idiots would do as he wished anyway, despite the way they were compelled by their illogically compulsive brains.

Although Marco was accepting of his death, he was unsure of his last breaths, or what he could do to terrify and leave his mark on the world. _I never die,_ he kept reminding himself, although he could feel himself withering away with every passing moment.

His fever didn't break that night, and he didn't care much.

Eventually he fell asleep, slumped against the hard brick walls of the prison. Those who talked about him obviously considered him dangerous, and he didn't care one bit.

Perhaps he could request nachos with his last meal. That sounded like a nice, perfect option, to show that he was indifferent about his death. Plus, if it was true what the newspapers said, it was unlikely he'd be getting any nachos when he descended into hell.

Marco giggled; his giggle hushed, and rolled over in his sleep. What was hell like? Maybe hell was nice and cool, and heaven was sweltering hot with the angels covered in burn and scorch marks, along with disfigured faces.

And the demons were the true angels with their dark wings and eyes, glinting with malicious intent. Each time he dreamt of these demons, their lank hair quickly diminished and transformed into his hair, and their gleeful eyes became his.

When he searched the world in his demon form, everything was given an ugly, rusted look that he quite appreciated. Marco sighed to himself, content, before thinking on the words of the judge, and how cruelly he'd punished him.

 _"May he find hellish punishment in death…"_

This world was unjust - he didn't deserve to die, but was taking a shortcut he deserved - and Marco quite liked the idea of shortcuts. The goal of life was to die, and he would simply achieve it quicker than everyone else.

* * *

 **Star**

In the other part of the prison, Star huddled in a little ball, unsure of what she was going to do next. They hadn't sentenced her yet, and she preferred it that way. At this moment in time, she felt like she was dying rather slowly.

This damp cell wasn't helping at all.

And nobody quite acknowledged the relationship between her and Marco. All she could do was pray that nobody would dig too deep into what was going on. Star heaves deeply, and wonders if Marco wishes he wasn't condemned.

 _Oh, Marco. It's only justice._ She quietly reminds herself, as she leans against the wall. Her fingers slide into the pockets of her trousers, and she empties them out, her routine becoming more and more time consuming.

Star doesn't know why she hasn't been sentenced to death yet.

 _I am no victim;_ she wished she'd screamed at the judge - when he called her _an unfortunate victim of this vile, vile man._ She willingly committed the acts, and didn't feel any remorse. It had been _fun_.

 _We can get you help, Star._

But she didn't WANT help. That was something the idiots at the court didn't understand - it was her time to die, and she was satisfied with it.

Still she wasn't scheduled to have a lethal injection, or the electric chair. None of that was what she wanted, or needed, they said, but as she fell asleep, she couldn't help but dream of herself sitting patiently in the chair.

And when the shock came, she shuddered and twitched despite the clasps keeping her in place, as people cheered and didn't shout, but thought horrible names up for Star. She twisted and tossed uncomfortably in her sleep.

In the new reality she dreamt up, a woman rang a bell, parading her through the streets. All sorts of things were being tossed at her, and she was completely naked, exposed to everyone watching and looking.

The men were cackling and calling her names, the women shaking their heads and averting their children's eyes. Some of them threw banana peels and bruises littered her skin, with some dirty objects stuck to her.

She couldn't stop walking, though. Each time she stopped, a sharp stick hit her right in the back - and the man prodding her with it pushed her forward slightly, leaving a few marks up and down her back, dotting it like a field full of flowers.

Her feet stung, bare and torn on the stony ground below. Jeering followed her with each step she took, and despite her head still up; she felt the shorn hair on her head and wanted to collapse. The woman continued ringing the bell, and the crowd thinned.

 _I will go on and I will finish life._

All had their eyes on her, but she wouldn't cry. They wanted to see her dead, and they thirsted for her blood to be spilt, even on her way to her hellish punishment. She was going to die, and they wanted to see her suffer anyway.

Everyone hated her, and she knew that this was how she was painted in the newspapers. Cruel, evil, immoral - all of these words had been used on her. The best part was that they were right.

And now her abdomen swelled and her husband sat in another cell, also atoning for his sins. As the acts flashed through her mind, she remembered each vividly and felt herself lick her lips.

Something about such cruelty made Star happy. She knew their families were happy to see them dead, but the words she'd spat out at them when they expressed their thoughts in a newspaper was enough to stay in their minds for the rest of their lives.

 _"I'm not the evil one here. You're ADVOCATING my death, you immoral bastards, and you think you're heavenly saints. Newsflash: you're nothing of the sort."_

Her little speech had made the headlines, amazingly, and most sympathised with her for no reason.

She'd have said more, but they dragged her away and pushed her into the vehicle, driving off as far away from the victim's parents as possible. And Star had just pushed her head against the window smirking maliciously, before asking them if her hair looked different.

 _"I'd rather I looked good before I died."_

They hadn't said anything, inspecting the mirrors and looking anywhere but at her. Star gave little care to this, peering out of the window in fascination, at the normal people. How could they be so ignorant of the fact there was a killer amongst them?

Star was laughing uncontrollably.

Then she realised she was awake, only to remind herself her time on Earth was _definitely_ limited.


	3. Harm

**Note: This story goes completely non-chronological from this point.**

 **Overview: Star & Marco's experiences of violence.**

* * *

 **Marco**

He had just risen up from the little table, where he'd completed a drawing of his house. Everyone had enormous smiles on their misshapen, rounded faces, and Marco had felt rather happy about drawing it.

When he walked outside for playtime, he hung around the slide, waiting patiently for his turn to go up it. Then a bigger boy shoved past him, and pushed past the others, causing some protests to break out, that he ignored.

They all tried to tell him that he had to wait in line, but he took no notice and lifted his large frame onto the slide, filling the entire thing. Marco held in his laughter, until he saw that the boy couldn't fit properly.

Only he burst into laughter when a little squeaking sound emerged from the silence, and the boy managed to make it all the way down. Face like thunder, he crossed his arms slightly below his heaving chest, and Marco caught his nametag.

 _Lars_.

Lars charged at him, and Marco didn't have time to react, before falling into the sandpit. He didn't cry, glancing up at Lars with a surprisingly steely look on his face. The bully didn't even react, throwing sand into Marco's eyes and slapping him.

He called him all sorts of silly names, and Marco just lay there, accepting it, as the other children rushed over. None of them really knew what to do, and attempted to pull the large boy off Marco, and although he appreciated their efforts, they were futile.

Lars was still on top of him at this point, and Marco closed his eyes, protecting them. Then he withdrew one of his hands, and clutched one of the little spades. They were only plastic, and he was sure it wouldn't matter…

 _Thwack._

The first hit caused Lars to stop still in his tracks, and a hand travelled to his head, feeling for a bump, blood. Having winded him, Marco stood up, seeing the bully at his feet, giving him a strange feeling of power.

He struck him again with the plastic spade, until Lars wildly threw his arms up to protect his head, his face crimson. The others surrounding them looked on curiously, as Marco thwacked him again and again, unable to stop.

His hands had a will of their own, as they brought the plastic spade down on him over and over again, getting more vicious with each hit.

Until one of the workers saw what was going on, sprinting over. Even as they pulled Marco off Lars, he continued trying to hit him - Lars lay there with an ugly crying face, bawling to nobody until another worker arrived to console him.

The other children went inside to do some colouring, and Marco stayed with the other worker, watching his friends file into the nursery. He didn't care at the time, and was too busy holding up the spade, inspecting it for damage.

He wondered if they'd call his parents and send him home - he quite hoped they would, since he enjoyed being around adults and listening to their rumbling conversations. Instead, the worker stayed with him and explained violence.

Violence - it was a weird word he didn't quite understand, but he liked the sound it made when the worker said it. She told him that hitting others was bad, and Marco nodded, sort of taking it in.

"You mustn't hit anyone, Marco."

"He slapped me first." He doesn't pout, keeping his tone emotionless and detached, strangely.

What was this violence she spoke of? Marco was merely defending himself against someone who intended to cause him bodily harm.

"Then you _tell_ , if he hits you," her tone suddenly went serious, "do not hit him back."

"Okay." Marco agrees, though the message had practically gone through an ear and left through the other. That message wouldn't stick in him for too long, because it was worthless to him.

He'd just been told off because someone hit him, and he found that surprisingly unfair - though he couldn't quite find the word to describe its extent of unfairness.

He sighs and follows the worker, who makes him stand in the corner once they get inside. As soon as his punishment is up, he has to apologise to Lars, who in turn, glares and reluctantly accepts his apology. Marco decided he didn't like Lars much that day.

From that day, they came to an uneasy truce.

* * *

 **Star**

Upon her one-and-tenth birthday, Star still was not old enough to attend a joust, but a feast with the rest of her family. Her mother had her scrubbed clean and put into a lilac, silky dress that slipped around her comfortably.

When people sat down in their chairs for the feast, her father made an announcement Star was not listening to. She sat with her arms off the table and her blue eyes fixed on him, but the words didn't come out as anything coherent to her.

Then he finished his speech and nodded at his wife, who dusted invisible dust off her dress and gave thanks to the Gods for Star's life and her seeing her one-and-tenth birthday. Star was then allowed to receive and open her gifts.

She first held a gift in blue and red, the colours of her uncle's house. He smiled kindly as she uncoils it slowly, her fingers playing with the soft ribbon and smooth feel of the wrapping paper. All eyes fell on Star as her eyes lit up in delight.

They were some books, light on her fingers and soft to the touch. The smile her uncle had given her was reciprocated, as Star turned the first few pages, reading carefully in the Mewni tongue. Quite amazingly, the book seemed to be unique and piqued Star's interest.

It took her a few moments before she put the pile of books down and reached for her other gifts. Even as she opened presents from her parents, cousins, aunts and other family, she realised that she couldn't get the book out of her mind.

Her final present was resting on her lap, when the doors were forced open and her father drew his sword surprisingly quickly in response. Star dropped the parcel, unsure of what was within it as the people of Mewni streamed through the open doors.

Her mother shouted and her father demanded his guards escorted the people out, until he saw they were all carrying weapons. Some held maces, some swords and some bows and arrows. Her one-and-tenth birthday was supposed to be perfect, but it clearly was nothing of the sort.

Then they attacked, charging at the guards and swinging their maces and swords, with arrows filling the air. A thick cloud of arrows surrounded the atmosphere, and Star was underneath a table with her mother, seeing some of her family members lying skewered on the floor.

Red puddles covered the floor, and Star's mother beckoned for her to follow her as they crawled under more interlinked tables, that happened to be fairly long. But she stopped and pointed at her gift lying under the table.

Her father by this point was attempting to push the rebels out of Star's birthday venue, but they were putting up a fair amount of resistance, demanding Star was delivered to them. Star didn't want to go with them at all, and scrambled, grabbing her present.

She smiled, despite the chaos, and opened her gift, which was nothing. The box was empty and unmarked, but a strange smell began to fill the air, one that made Star feel woozy and disorientated.

Her drooping eyes were a clear sign to her mother, who dragged her as far away from the box as possible. Star's eyes flickered shut, but she fought the cloud of black overcoming her.

 _I will not fall asleep, I will not…_

The rebels seemed infuriated that their plan had failed, and stormed the venue completely, not catching Star and her mother slip out. The queen of Mewni had no choice but to tear her wand from her belt, producing hoods for both her and Star.

They both pulled the hoods over their heads, and Star couldn't help but turn back to the destruction, remembering how she'd seen the arrows fly and her aunt and uncles drop. The hood was further over her head when she remembered her cousins.

Were they dead? Star snuck one last glance at the venue before her mother pulled her away - it was no use. Her view was blocked by the rebels swinging their swords, and she could only see bands of metal slicing the air violently.

Remembering the box with the weird smell, she wondered if she wanted to ask about it. Instead, she kept her mouth shut, seeing that her mother looked like she was on the verge of tears as they stopped by the royal carriage.

 _What about father? He's still in there!_

Her thought process dwindled, coming to a halt.

Star was pushed into the carriage, and the carriage sped away from her disastrous birthday.


	4. Identity

**Just a quick note:  
** **Whether this story tackles themes you (dis)like or not, please do not leave abusive reviews. I won't say who posted the reviews, but** **I've had to delete two reviews from my _both_ of my stories, and I really hope I don't have to do it again. Still, I'm very grateful for my reviewers, so thank you very much for taking the time to review this.**

 **Thanks for reading my (fairly long) note, and enjoy the 4th chapter:**

* * *

 **Queen Butterfly**

Her husband's remains from the riot had been sent to her anonymously, with a note attached, telling her they were selling his organs all over the land. Of course - most people were ill in Mewni and needed new organs.

They were selling his organs like he was a commoner - he had died in battle, like a true nobleman. These people were sickening her with each move they made. She flung down the letter she'd been writing to Star, her eyes skimming it for a few moments.

 _Your father was a brave man._ Tears threaten to spill from her eyes, but nothing comes out - she's been hiding behind her stone persona for much too long, that she can't feel anything anymore.

Her husband was dead?

It was an outrage, not upsetting.

She scowled, her face forming a mask of fury and aggression. This meant she'd be in hiding for longer than she and her advisers had predicted.

"Fetch me my dimensional scissors. I still have alliances with some lands, and will be taking Mewni back."

Her advisers and servants hopped to it, aware that they were in grave danger - the streets were no longer safe, with fires breaking out everywhere, smashed up carts and signs saying _DEATH TO THE QUEEN_ hanging up everywhere.

Even the palace had suffered damage to some areas, and Queen Butterfly was forced to live in fear that one day, they'd bomb her bedroom. On the bright side, she'd die painlessly, in pieces, in her sleep.

The foul citizens thirsted for her blood, and she was much too stubborn to give it to them.

She walks over to the Mewni balcony, by that point, wondering if she was cut out to rule, or if she was as incompetent as her advisers.

Her supposed spies had not done their job and kept the riot under control, she thought, as she curled her hand around the hilt of her dagger. Ladies weren't meant to carry daggers, but it was a necessity for her.

Turning on her heel, she walked away from the smashed remains of bodies lying on the cobblestones below. It was a rather sickening sight, one that reminded her of her daughter's sobs as she sent her away to Earth.

Returning to the throne room, Queen Butterfly felt tears prick her eyes. No thrones remained, just smouldering piles of dust and rubble - this was what the Butterfly legacy had been reduced to. Ash and dust, and she knew she wouldn't live forever.

Was Star really capable of conquering Mewni again?

As she thought this, her advisers arrived with her scissors, and she took them rather pointedly. "You may have to look after this riot of a land - keep the castle safe."

She was only putting on her brave face - she wanted to sob into their chests and beg them to fight for her, to protect her. Queen Butterfly was back to the frail little girl she'd once been - the one she'd seen in Star as she left her life forever.

The Queen steps through the portal, only to be stopped by one of her advisers, who shakes their head. Only ever so infuriated, she gestures that she's halfway inside the portal and that they should leave her.

"Why?" Now her back is in the portal, and she's prepared to take one more step and leave them.

The advisers stepped forward and circled her, one of them grabbing her dimensional scissors. They burned his hands, and with the welts forming on his hands, he glanced at them in horror. His eyes widened and his mouth set into a square of pain.

Another adviser shoved her quite hard, and she felt herself stumble and lose her balance. Falling back, she screamed, aware her hands weren't out to protect her head.

The advisers cackled cruelly, and seconds later, the portal sealed itself, trapping the queen in the other dimension.

She screamed, pounding on the fabrics of the universe, begging for her dimensional scissors, anything, before breaking down and falling to her knees. Keeling over, she started to scream in agony, unaware she was drawing attention to herself.

So she was an exile now, for her own safety?

Queen Butterfly stands up and hobbles through the town she's landed in, telling herself that she must live as a commoner, that she'll never rule Mewni ever again and neither will her daughter.

* * *

 **Marco/Star**

"I don't get it." Star seems frustrated, as she slams down the book and pencil, fiddling with her wand again. Marco smiled a little, waiting for her to ask him for help like she always did.

Star didn't say a word, as she continued trying to work out why physics homework was so hard. That was the last straw for her, as she pushed away the book and called out for Marco to help her out.

He was already on it, right next to her within seconds of her call, smirking.

"Right, okay. Helium's less dense than air, to begin with, so…"

She drums her fingers on the table, and he's sure she's waiting for him to end up doing her homework for her, but continues droning on about helium, density, seven, and air.

The hearts on her cheek practically pull away, being replaced by hourglasses. Sand pours through them, and they turn over and over, until Marco finishes his little speech about moments and Star still doesn't understand.

"Right, then, you know the formula, so you'd multiply four and seven. This'd give you twenty-eight Nm."

"Oh." The syllable comes out foreign and strange to her, but he doesn't seem to think anything of it. Plastering a smile to her face, she nods and picks up the pencil she'd flung onto the bed in defeat moments ago.

And begins writing, scribbling down answers as Marco barely moves from her side, watching her calculations or just listening to her breathe. As strange as it seems, he can't help but count her breaths per minute, watching the rise and fall of her chest.

Eventually, he snaps out of it as he points out again helium is less dense than air, though the same thoughts are still in his mind, nagging him to ask about her wand that appears to be glowing with a pink light.

She finishes her homework incredibly slowly, but when it's done, she grins from ear to ear. Then she tosses her book aside, bubbling over with excitement. Obviously, Marco had no intent to tell her that her wand was…

No. He did. He had to.

"Star, your wand…"

"Oh, this old thing," she smiles still, pulling it out of its little holder. Tapping it gently, the wand opens with a flashing red light and urgent beeping. Suddenly, the air grows thick and chilly with awkwardness.

 _Emergency message for Star Butterfly!_

It keeps repeating itself, until Star presses her fingers against it and swipes, causing the first part of the wand to flap open. The running unicorn within it seems to slide aside, pushed away by invisible gears, revealing the interior of the wand.

Her wand is still glowing, emitting a burst of light as a small piece of paper flies out the slit. Within minutes, the slit closes, allowing the unicorn to return to its position, and the wand snaps shut, leaving Star with a piece of paper.

It's still silent as Star places down her wand and unfolds the piece of paper, consulting it. He can't see what it says, but as Star's face crumples, something crumples inside of him too.

The writing is red and angry, but Star's face is redder.

"Wh-what does it say?"

She sobs and screws the paper up into a ball, before walking over to Marco's wastepaper basket. Throwing it in, she scoops her physics book up from the bed and totters out of his room unsteadily.

As soon as she left, he approached his wastepaper basket and picked it up, rummaging through it to find the small ball of paper. It was much too small for him to see, anyway - so he'd have to ask Star what had happened.

When she felt better, that was.


	5. Jade

**Starring:  
Marco's early behaviour problems, his ways of feeding them, along with Star's betrothal and a wedding between a lord and a lady.**

* * *

 **Marco**

All his bags had been packed up, and he was halfway out of the door. Neither of his parents had woken up to the clattering in his room, as he pushed over some shelves and ran through the house, his feet pounding on the stairs.

It seemed to be a distant memory in his mind that he'd ever lived in _this place_ , as Marco clambered over some of his fallen toys. The door opened with a little creak, and he paused, wondering if his parents could hear.

 _I'M NOT COMING BACK!_

He wanted to scream, to broadcast it and slam the door, but there was no point - his parents probably wouldn't care. They'd just drag him to that crusty old man who called himself a "counsellor for troubled kids."

He pushed open the door further, shutting it with a gentle click.

The wind pushed at him, and he pulled his jacket closer around him, shuddering slightly. It bit into his slightly exposed chest and caused him to stagger, roughly pushing him around the place. Marco fought through it, managing to step through the gate.

He collapsed on the grass, coughing and crying under the airy taste of the wind. As soon as the wind came to a halt, Marco continued, scampering through his neighbourhood, ducking and darting around all of the lights.

It started up again, violently tossing rubbish and moulding leaves about. He didn't see it as much of a problem, navigating through it with a fair amount of ease. Eventually, he stopped, reaching the park, with his favourite swings.

Marco smiled, and crawled over the fairly low gates, falling onto his stomach with a thud. Surprisingly, it didn't hurt much as he wriggled, his legs still stuck between the fence. They came free and he pulled himself to his feet.

He crawled onto the swing, and pushed himself forward, swinging himself. His feet soared through the skies, and he could feel the clouds dotting his cheeks, and felt light and airy. It was the best feeling in the world.

Marco swung himself again, and heard the squeaking of the swings, implying he was going impossibly high. He cried out in joy, as he began to swing faster and higher, kicking out with his feet. By this point, he'd forgotten about his parents.

Although it was dark and nobody was out, danger still lurked in the alleyways and corners of the park, his parents said. They'd both told him never to leave the house at night, and what did Marco do?

He disobeyed them.

The swings stopped slowly, and he didn't feel like pushing himself up and down anymore. Instead, Marco climbed off and explored the rest of the park. His eyes caught the slide, and he dashed towards it, looking for the ladders.

There were monkey bars, and those strange wooden planks that shook with each step he took on them. Marco eventually reached the slide, and scuttling about in the darkness, he fumbled, before finding his way.

The feeling of _sliding_ was too good for him to miss out on - as he whizzed down, he let out a laugh. It wasn't too loud a laugh - it was muffled in the dark, and only lasted for a few moments. When he reached the end of the slide, he saw the ropes.

And began to climb them, using his hands to steady himself and his feet as guides, until he reached the top.

Upon reaching the top, he clambered onto the wooden poles, sitting there and blinking down at the black blades of grass. There wasn't anything for him to see anyway, he thought, but he stayed up there, with his chin on his fist.

Crouching, Marco began to move, curling up into a ball, but keeping an iron grip on the wooden pole. Eventually, he unlatched his hands from it and ambled over to the trees - they were black shadows, looming over him.

Their branches were stunted and ugly, and the ashy sky looked like it was going to rain. Marco rummaged through his bag, looking for a coat and his favourite blanket - the blue one, that'd be covered in grass stains soon.

Placing down the blanket, he saw that it covered the supposedly wet grass. His fingers instantly reached for the grass, and he plucked one or two damp blades out - yes, the grass was wet, he confirmed.

Taking out his coat, he flopped onto the blanket, carefully curling up his toes to avoid touching the grass. The sky seemed to crack, and a few drops of rain escaped through the cracks, never hitting Marco, but only his shield - the tree he lay under.

Pulling his coat over himself, he shivered in the cold, until a ray of warmth surged through him. Marco smiled briefly, and within a few minutes, perhaps ten or so, he was fast asleep.

* * *

 **Star**

Mother had fastened a necklace around her neck, along with a bracelet, telling her it was special for the wedding reception. The carriage ride had been awful, as there were piles of dung all over the streets, and she couldn't help but look at the starving townspeople.

All of them seemed disgruntled and angry, with a strange red liquid staining the cobblestones. She gazed at what looked like a body, before her mother pulled her away. The body had been crushed, and she was sure the little boy crouching by it wasn't crying.

Instead, he sunk his teeth into the person's flesh, and more blood poured out of the already mutilated body. It didn't matter much - it would've been impossible to identify who that once was.

She was fiddling with her bracelet; the strange green jewels hanging off it were uncomfortable and brushing against her wrist, probably leaving marks. Her mother had told her she had to wear it, because it was a present from her friend's husband.

Star couldn't bear the silence.

"Why do the folk look so sad, Ma?"

"You don't need to know that until you're older," she sighs, pulling the screen over the window of the carriage - Star assumed that she didn't want her to watch them any longer, and turned back to glance at her.

"But I'm _nearly_ one-and-ten."

"Perhaps you could pray to the Gods for them then," Her mother says, resting her hands on her lap - Star attempted to mimic this movement, and nodded, feeling slightly sick at the bumps of the carriage ride.

"Don't _they_ pray to the Gods?"

"No. Some of them worship the water, some fire. They brought such a misfortune upon themselves - if they just kept faith with the Gods, then they'd be fine."

Star was sure that couldn't be true - in the lessons she'd had with the High Priestess, she'd claimed that the Gods were merciful to all and forgiving to those who didn't worship them.

Of course, this was the same woman who was burned at the stake for witchcraft, because she converted to the faith of the Bride. The Priestess told her she had been enlightened by the Bride, and described her as beautiful and forgiving.

They arrived fairly late, with the wedding reception almost set up and prepared - all the lords and ladies were there, but Star disliked them - the ladies were old hags, with their hair dyed to disguise the hideous greying colour it originally was.

And the lords were fat, with their skin crinkly and slimy, reminding her of those frog-plants she'd seen the citizens selling on street corners. One of them had approached the carriage in a vain attempt to stop it, begging them to buy the frog-plant.

That was odd - the carriage had stopped and the guards returned with bloody swords, saying words her mother glared at them for.

"They're ugly." She murmured, receiving a dig in the ribs from her mother, which quickly silenced her. That didn't make it any less true, she thought, sulking as she followed her mother to the seats at the front of the wedding.

The royal guards flanked them.

"Oh, Your Grace!" One voice cried out, and the little Star peeked out from the side of her, seeing a tall lady hugging her mother - it must have been her friend, meaning she was the one with the son she was "promised" to.

"Please, call me…"

"You look so well, your hair is absolutely beautiful - and your dress…" The woman was gushing by this point.

"Arabella, please - you're in good health, as usual."

That was preposterous, she thought, as she searched the grounds for a male her age. Then the aunt turned to look at her and smiled, asking if she was _Star Butterfly_ and Star nodded wordlessly. She wanted to cut her sentence short and ask her if she had a son.

Instead, she retained her womanly manners and smiled sickeningly sweetly at the woman, addressing her as _Your Grace_ and bobbing a curtsey.

"Oh, what a delight." The woman smiles at her mother, and Star can't help but feel slightly impatient.

"Your daughter _must_ meet Axel, then."

"Ah, yes, just what I was going to suggest."

The adults began chattering, their voices too quiet for Star to hear. She didn't _want_ to marry this boy, regardless of what her mother said.

A thought crossed her mind: if she was old enough to marry him, then she was old enough to know why the citizens were so upset.

"Fetch Axel for me," she requests, as one of her guards slink away.

Axel appeared moments later, and she found he was handsome and gallant, for a boy of three-and-ten. Nonetheless, she still kept her face pinched and sour, outstretching a hand for him to kiss.

He kissed it gently, and even called her "M'Lady."

The sour mask slipped from her face slightly, but only ever so slightly.

He whirled her away, linking their arms, down the fields and past the guards on their hides, until they reached a quiet and seemingly isolated place. Star quite liked it, but did not voice her thoughts.

Instead, she had resting sour face.

"Oh, you mustn't be so sour. I promise I'd be a good husband, when the time comes…" Axel trails off.

She was just as petulant, but managed not to stick out her bottom lip and pout furiously.

"I'll be a good husband, unlike my fathead father."

Her head snapped as she heard his words, before beginning to giggle quietly. It was rather unladylike to be amused by a cruel jape.

"You're rather droll." She admits, smiling a little.

"Just one of the qualities of a fine husband," he points out, and she's sure she saw him wink for a moment.

"Indeed." She agrees.

"Tell me, then, Star, what's Mewni like?"

Star thinks for a moment, wondering if she should describe the town… no, because that would likely terrify him.

"It's rather-"

She's cut off by their mothers' arrival, both of them arriving by the respective child's side.

"The wedding is beginning, children." Her aunt spoke briefly, before leading them back to the seating area, away from the grassy fields Axel had led her into.

She'd quite liked the privacy, but now, as she was placed into a seat next to Axel, she felt uncomfortable, with all the eyes glued to her. None of them would stop either, all of them burning into her soul.

Why didn't they look at the lord and lady that had just been married? After all, it was _their_ wedding reception. Would it be like this when she married Axel?

Star shuddered at the thought.

Axel was subtle, when he leaned near her and made a quiet comment that made her titter quietly.

One of the ladies approached Star and smiled, before at least three of them came to her - she didn't notice much difference, until some lords also arrived and fondled her bracelet. All of them cooed lovingly that she was a beauty, like her mother.

Then, and only then, they made their way towards the married couple.

The reception went well, until the cupbearer arrived and handed the goblet to the lord, who lifted the goblet to his lips. Then he stopped, as his lips dyed blue.

Nobody seemed to see change, apart from Axel, whose eyes widened in surprise, and his eyebrows became more intense. But he didn't say anything, until the lord started coughing, putting down the goblet.

The cupbearer came closer, confused, and picked up the goblet, inspecting it - his hands sunk into it, and he rummaged around.

Strangely, the lord seemed to have finished choking, but his lips still had a tinge of blue to them - Star squirmed in her seat, feeling Axel's hand resting on top of hers - this was his nearest attempt to console her.

When the cupbearer brought out two jade fragments from the cup, all eyes turned to Star, who swooned. She landed in Axel's arms, and briefly caught a glimpse of his open mouth, and his eyes shining with horror.

"Star!" He exclaims, shaking her gently and tapping her face - but she gives no response.

The green jewels on her necklace twinkled just as brightly on her bracelet, with only two pieces missing. But enough to suggest enough about Star, as all the lords and ladies gasp, before descending into gossip.


	6. Kill the Boy

**YOU WANT TO KNOW YOUR OBJECTIVE?**

 **I TOLD YOU ALREADY:**

 **KILL THE BOY.**

* * *

 **Marco**

Lars was almost dead, he assumed, by the slumping body on the ground. He lay at his feet, a cruel irony, a parody, of what life was when the boy controlled him - because the tables had turned completely. Now Marco cracked the whip.

 _You don't hurt me anymore - or anyone, for that matter._ He thinks, licking his lips at the delicious, almost-corpse desperately reaching for his toes.

The feeling of wielding the metal that knocked him out was amazing - and he was scanning the boy, searching for something he could keep as a trophy. There was an odd need, a lust in Marco to kill the boy and take something from him.

Something less petty and meaningless than his lunch money, he thought to himself, as he stalked the body once, then twice. Star was silent, wordlessly watching him with interest glinting in her eyes - only ever so slightly.

A lock of his hair? Perhaps a slice from his scalp, or even a little bit of his flesh.

It soon occurred to him he couldn't take _anything_ from him - that'd be his downfall and he'd get caught.

Marco picks up the boy, and sits him down in a dining chair and gestures for Star to join him at the table. The two sat in silence, and something told him that Star was afraid to say anything else - she wasn't at home in this game.

"Want a drink?" He asks, before standing up and going over to the fridge - it wasn't empty, filled with beer cans and other alcoholic beverages. The fridge itself seemed clean, but the six packs had cheap logos on them.

"Uh… I'll get one later." She answers nervously.

"No problem, then."

Beer was _beer_. He takes a can of beer and cracks it open, approaching the table and casually sliding into a chair next to Lars' half-dead body - he'd even brought him his own bottle of beer, placing it in front of him.

"Lars is always thirsty."

"Mm." Star nods in agreement.

Marco pops the lid of the beer bottle, holding it to Lars' cold, lifeless lips. Lars didn't even swig it, as he was unable to - the liquid gathered in the boy's mouth, and Marco listened for his gurgles, his wails.

"Hm. Seems he's not that thirsty, for once." He was home, at last, in this game, and felt like Star was attempting to join him. It was the thought that counted, and the effort - the girl simply needed more training.

"I… yeah, he's probably not."

Marco hadn't quite acknowledged how silly the game was, as he rose up from the chair, moving around, stopping by the counter, where he saw at least six knives being kept in a holder of some sort.

"Well, it's good we've fulfilled the objective - nobody'll miss him anyway."

"I suppose so." Star had turned stiff, her body rigid, yet frail.

Star was like his little doll, she was damaged, her limbs broken and her hair missing or covering her eyes, but he loved his doll.

 _I don't play with dolls anymore - I've graduated to playing with people._

"Still, it's fun… to have fun, isn't it? And besides, he's only three quarters dead."

"I suppose so," she echoes, like a stuck CD.

Taking out one of the knives, he circles the tip of his finger with it, managing to scratch his nail slightly. It was a fairly large blade, one that he could imagine penetrating Lars' fat rolls of skin, letting some blood ooze out.

"Star, you look a bit pale. Go out and get some fresh air."

The relief on her face was too much for him to handle - but it didn't even make him sad. Nothing else but disappointment settled in his stomach, before it was completely obliterated by excitement.

As soon as the door shut and she stood outside, he started laughing - only quietly, because he'd spent much too long training Star to lose her. Maybe she'd detect that he was a beast, too dangerous to be around.

It didn't matter, because by the time she realised, it'd be too late and she'd be putty in his hands.

Marco was playing two games: one with Lars, and another with Star.

He was _winning_ the games!

Strategic planning always worked, but now he was working with rage.

The blade loosened in his grip, and plunged into Lars' flabby flesh, leaving a small mark on the semi-alive boy. A small spurt of blood escaped the spot, and he grunted, seeing that Lars wasn't actually fully unconscious.

In response, Lars spat out the beer, rubbing his lips with the back of his hands, as Marco watched in interest. So the boy could play dead, could he?

 _Kill the boy._

 _Kill the boy._

The objective rang in his ears, loud and clear, as he headed back for the cupboards, fetching a funnel and then reaching the fridge, where he pulled out more of the six packs of beers. Lars' head was lolling by this point, and he appeared paralysed.

"Mar…co?" His voice was slurred and a brown patch stained his white and blue shirt.

"No. It's not Marco."

Marco didn't believe in himself anymore - there was a person inside of him who killed others, who targeted rapists, murderers… he was an angel, but he was a flawed one.

"Have a drink." He orders, in one short phrase, as he pours the beer into a larger bottle, waiting to hold it in place with the funnel. Eventually, he fills the entire bottle, and unscrews the lid, holding it in place with Lars' lips.

"Take your last breaths," he commands, before pouring the contents down his throat.

Lars squirms uncomfortably, trying to shift and free himself from Marco's grip, but as one hand pushes the beer down his throat, the other has him in a grip too tight for him to escape.

 _YOU'RE NOT LEAVING HERE ALIVE!_

The laughter dies in his throat, and he wants to dance crazily, to jig and laugh at Lars still fighting in vain to stop the flow of beer. The bottle was emptying with each moment, but he could see the glaze in his eyes.

"Stop fighting - you're only making it worse."

 _But you sure are making it more amusing for me._

Of course, he took no heed of his words and continued thrashing about, wasting precious seconds as he jerked violently in the chair, unable to accept that it was his time to die.

 _The goal of life is death_ , Marco wanted to tell him.

Star was still outside, waiting for him to finish the job.

The body chortled and shuddered in drink and death, before he sank into the chair and finally died. The remaining spouts of beer flooded the table, and Lars' body allowed more of the liquid to trickle onto his shirt, as Marco keeled over.

Only now did he break into the forbidden laughter, and when he started, he was unable to stop. Lars threw his head back, lying dead in the chair, as Marco picked up the same knife and got to work with it.

The first slit he made was the throat, then he used the knife to tear open his shirt, exposing the boy's jutting out collarbone, where he took plenty of effort to slash out a quick phrase.

 _I LIKE BEER_

It wasn't particularly witty, sure, but it was short and simple, Marco thought, as he inspected the knife for the blood dripping off it.

Having done this, he fiddled with his pockets before pulling out Star's bracelet, and plucking a jewel of it. Seconds later, the jewel reappeared, seemingly brighter than the one he'd just pulled off. He stuffed it back in his pocket and dropped it in the beer, curious for a reaction.

Nothing happened, and Marco simply sat there, wanting to burst into tears - the last part of his plan had gone wrong, even with thorough planning and weeks of training and _so much_ thorough planning, how could it possibly backfire?

The green jewels continued to shine, and Marco used the knife to grind them up, creating a weird, greenish powder, soaked in brown. Yet the green continued to shine through the brown, much to his confusion.

Before removing the knife from the beer, he stirred it within the beer, seeing that the jewels were glowing blood red and green. The jewels paled slightly, and Marco nearly jumped at the sudden change.

Carefully, Marco took the knife out of the beer, and checked the open window again. Before leaving, he couldn't help but wave at Lars, even though he knew the boy was dead.

"Bye, Lars. It wasn't that nice to know you."

Star was still a sickly colour, but she smiled in relief when she saw Marco made it out in one piece.

"How'd it go?" She links an arm through his, before taking the knife, coated in blood, out of his hand, handling it quite normally. Not as gingerly as Marco would've thought she'd hold it.

"Pretty well, actually."

"Good, good. The next job should be easy, then."

Marco nods in agreement, as he pressed a button on the car keys.

A clicking noise fills the otherwise empty neighbourhood, and the black car has its doors opened. He turns, looking for any witnesses, because he could still do with more _paint_ for his knife.

Nobody was around - the place was isolated, but he could see shadows behind the battered up houses and half-boarded up windows. Yikes - Lars did _not_ live in the nicest of places, Marco dwelled on this, whilst twiddling his thumbs.

"No witnesses," he says, his voice thick with sadness.

"No witnesses." She confirms.

They climb into the car, with Marco at the wheel, and Star changing the radio station. He starts up the car, and they sit in silence, simply listening to the music blaring from the radio - neither of them seemed to care much about their kill.

Star actually began singing along at one point, and Marco couldn't help but tap his fingers to the beat of the song when the red light came on.

"Do we have an alibi?" She asks, mid-way through the song.

"Those aren't the lyrics, Star."

"Do we?" She repeats.

"Does it matter? I can always ask Alfonzo or Ferguson to cover for us, though they shouldn't question us. It's not like they've got proof we killed Lars."

"We've got the motive, though."

" _Everyone's_ got the motive."

"But we have it more so, because he-"

"Don't talk back to me," he snarls, as the light turns yellow, then flashes to green. The car seems to splutter and cough, before coming to life and continuing its journey.

An awkward silence fills the car, apart from the radio, that continues to play repetitive pop music.


	7. Doll Face (Part 1)

**"It's just one of your weird Earth customs, right?"**

 **Warning: Underage drinking and a fair amount of swearing (because Brittney needs to calm down).**

* * *

 **Star**

The evening was awful and grey, the letter still etched into her mind. Her mother was dead, which marked the death of _both_ her parents. Something about the urgency of the letter made Star feel worse.

They wouldn't let her attend the funeral, either, telling her to remain safe on Earth. She wanted to laugh bitterly and point out she was much more vulnerable on Earth than she was anywhere else, but kept her mouth shut.

Her letter back had been formal and courteous, even though Star wanted to gouge their eyes out with her dimensional scissors.

Marco looked at her, sideways, curious that her hair was out of her eyes. Star could feel his eyes on her, but barely twitched in response. Instead, she stayed still like a doll, dreaming of Brittney's house and the interior.

They were both stiff and uncomfortable, Star in a dress with the green jewels that reminded her of Axel, and Marco in a suit. She'd tried her best to wiggle out of Brittney's party, but Marco had insisted she went to a 'real Earth party.'

That's how she ended up in the backseat of the Diaz's car, listening to some damned pop music. She'd spent most of the journey glancing out of the window, praying that the car would get stuck in traffic or get into an accident.

The picture was quite clear in her mind - she could see their bodies all together, the car wrecked and dents scattered across it. Something about the picture was soothing, and caused her breathing to slow down, with Marco anxiously sneaking looks at her.

Looks she easily detected.

Looks that broke her out of her little world, as she spied on the reflection of Marco through the window.

 _Things are prettier in the rain,_ she couldn't help but think, as she eyed the world. The world had turned to a painting, with the rain water blending all the colours like inks and paints.

"Star." Now he was ejecting her from the happy painting she'd been experiencing. Not life - just the painting of a busy road, and a family that would never arrive at a party - until now.

"Hm?" She asks. There'd better be a good reason for his interruption.

"We're here."

He opens the car doors, and hastily gives his goodbyes to his mother and father. Star coldly acknowledges them, giving them little nods, though her expression is gone and her face has turned to steel.

Her finger was outstretched to the doorbell, when she felt a hand on her shoulder. The hand was warm and clammy, and she could feel the sweat from it starting to form a patch on her dress. Star turned to look at Marco.

"I've got something that I need you to do."

She blinked at him, unable to speak - her face was paralysed, permanently twisted into a mask of disinterest in everything and everyone. Marco didn't acknowledge it, but he was melting the walls of ice coating her.

"Hold out your hand." He requests.

A vial is pressed into her hand, one with a colourless and pale substance in it. Star accepts the vial, and holds it up, pressing her wand against it - wondering if he wants her to multiply it or just keep it on her person.

"It's nitric acid, and you're going to need it tonight. You see, it's a custom on Earth…"

"Where'd you get it?"

"Janna."

As soon as he's explained its purpose, he allows her to ring the doorbell, whilst clasping the little vial of nitric acid in her left hand, hiding it behind her back.

The door is opened, revealing Brittney, with an expression of disdain on her face as she beckons them in. They take off their shoes immediately, seeing the other shoes all lined up neatly in rows by the walls.

"Welcome," Brittney begins tastelessly, "to my party. You're just in time for karaoke."

"Great." Marco says enthusiastically, earning himself a glare from Star - she can't process his words without feeling sick to her stomach.

What on Earth was great about Brittney's terrible, terrible singing and why was he even trying to humour her?

As Brittney leads them through her house, Star grabs Marco and pulls him aside.

"Hang on Brittney; we'll be there in a minute."

"Right then… Butterfly."

She can easily tell that she's glad to be rid of them, as she leans closer to Marco, holding the vial of acid so they both can see it.

"When do I do it?" She asks, turning the vial over in her hands. Marco pushes the vial into her hands a little more, tucking it out of sight of the other people passing by them - it'd be much better if they thought they were dealing drugs than what they were _actually_ doing.

What they were doing was much, much worse.

"I'll distract the others, and then…"

"I don't get why you want to do this so much."

"It's not for me, Star. I'm doing it for you. You see, Brittney would do it to you if you didn't do it first… I just want to protect you."

She blushes, unsure how to respond. "Er… thanks," she squeaks out, flustered.

It never did occur to her that Marco could lie so well.

Marco squeezes her hand gently, before leading her back to the party - and for once, Star doesn't object to the sweat drenching her hand, until he lets go of her. A sense of loss fills her, only to disappear as she hears people shout.

"Awesome party," Marco mutters, joining Justin in the living room to dance. Obviously, everyone had either refused to do karaoke or Brittney was saving it for later - Star hoped they'd leave before it hit full swing.

Awkwardly, she shuffles about, stopping by the kitchen counter, where she reaches the punch bowl. Star doesn't do anything until the vial is safely stowed in her pocket, then she fishes out a pair of glasses from the bowl.

"Undrinkable… got it." She confirms, picking up a can of Sprite instead and cracking it open.

Holding the can, she begins to load her plate with snacks and food, taking care not to take too much - she wasn't really in the mood to be ostracised by Brittney and her friends.

Jackie's stood by the wall, looking bored and detached from the world around her, much like Star. There was a weird quality of that that Star liked, so she couldn't help but approach her.

Plus, the music was beginning to swell in the other room, which meant if she returned, she'd be forced to dance amongst other sweaty and unhygienic bodies - something she really didn't want to do.

"Hey, Jackie."

"Oh hi, Star. Pretty cool party, right?"

"If you define glasses in the punch bowl as cool," Star chuckles.

"Hah. Bet it's crazier in the living room, though."

"So, are you just getting away from the party…?"

"Yeah, I'm trying to call my mom."

Star sees that as her cue to leave, and she nods, saying that she'll _leave Jackie to it_ before disappearing completely.

Her predictions were correct about the living room, which had been trashed within the space of ten minutes - some students are sitting on the sofas, with the girls on the boys' laps, their arms wrapped around their necks.

Star feels like gagging, but navigates through the snogging couples until she reaches Marco, who gestures to the left, to the bathroom, where Brittney must have gone. The vial was a lot lighter in her grip, and she felt slightly faint.

"You can do it, Star." He tells her, and it just isn't enough. She can do it because it's an Earth custom, because she'll fit in like he will, she brings out his old self, the old self that makes trouble but wants to party.

Is that a good thing or not?

She can't ponder this for too long, as she makes her way to the bathroom, where she can hear vomiting and choking, followed by a bit of crying. The same feelings of nausea and sadness wash over her, causing her to rethink the vial.

There is no going back, though, she tells herself. Marco had promised her that his old self wasn't staying too long, that he'd hide him away from the world despite her efforts to revive him. Star wasn't so sure that she believed him.

So she flings open the door, not because she wants to hurt Brittney, or join in with Earth customs, but because she wants to save Marco from himself.

 _It's fun being a trouble maker, but then it gets dangerous - yet I can't stop. You can stop me Star, you can stop me… just… take the vial._

It never leaves her grasp, as she unscrews the lid and walks through the open door, causing Brittney to cry out in protest. The vomit stains the sink, with little bits of food in it - but Brittney is much too weak to fight her off.

"Teen drinking is _very_ bad." There's a strange, callous tone in all of this and Star knows she's not sorry.

What happens next is totally under her control.

* * *

 **Brittney**

She was in total panic as Star approached her, the vial in her hand - the colourless substance was enough to terrify her, and she tried to scramble away from it, dart out of the door. But she never reached the door, as Star slammed it shut.

Her hands didn't even get to catch the smooth, yet icy metal handle - instead, she was crumpled up by the door, with Star's feet pointing at her stomach.

She's not sure if the pain dully spreading out through her stomach is a kick from Star or if she rolled into the door. So she just huddles and shivers at Star's feet, unable to move or fight back against her.

"Should've locked the door," Star coldly says, but she doesn't lock it herself.

There had to be some form of escape. Brittney was still in a cold sweat, a blind panic as she pounded on the door, begging for someone to help her. If the girl wanted to kill her, then she would - but at a party? Plenty of people could help her!

Though despite her efforts, her voice was hushed and husky - not loud enough for anyone to hear and come to her rescue.

Brittney had no idea what she was doing, as she weakly crawled over to the shower and yanked the door shut, blocking the beast from entering - the gleam in Star's eyes was horrifying and calculating, one that didn't belong at her party.

"Don't… Star…" she pathetically pleads, slumping down in the shower. Her hands fall to her sides, snapping down instantly as the girl wrenches the door open, the vial's lid falling to the ground with a clatter next to Brittney.

There's no point of her holding up her arms to defend herself, before the acid in the vial pours down in torrents on her. She screams in agony, unable to soothe herself, because the flow won't stop coming and it burns.

Her face is burning and stinging, and she quickly operates the shower, dousing herself with cold water. But the water only makes it worse, as Star climbs into the shower, knocking the supply of water out of her hand.

She can't see properly, all she sees are fuzzy images and blonde hair falling beside her, before lashing out. Her face, her beautiful face and hair had been burnt by the vial, and the vial fell out of Star's hands, rolling on the floor.

"YOU BITCH! YOU FUCKING BITCH! I'LL KILL YOU, I SWEAR-"

A searing pain blinded her more, as she fell limply to the ground, with Star towering over her, having recovered the vial. The remnants of the liquid gush down onto her, and she can't stop shouting and swearing and crying.

"I'LL KILL YOU, YOU FUCKING WHORE! YOU ABSOLUTE BITCH, YOU ALMIGHTY CUNT!" None of it makes sense, but she wants to scream and cuss and hurt her.

The pain doesn't subside _,_ even when she screams at Star, but echoes dully, begging for her attention and attacking her hair and face. She can feel her designer dress burning, her skin trying to defend itself against the acid.

But like the rest of her, it loses the war and is corroded away.

With her remaining strength, Brittney slaps Star - it's not a hard slap, and it doesn't hit her on a hotspot of her body, because she can't see. The fury floods her body, working her into a frenzy, a rage, as she clambers awkwardly on top of Star.

Star is rigid and unmoving beneath her, and she wills for the door to be locked forever, so she can beat the crap out of the girl. Each punch she throws doesn't hit, she can tell by the unmistakeable pain pressing against her knuckles.

There's also the cold floor gnawing into her exposed hands.

Blood spurts from the cuts, and begins to stain the otherwise white floor of her shower, yet she keeps going, her accuracy poor - only some hits catch Star. Blood wells up on both Star and Brittney, but Star remains stationary and stone.

The door opens with a click, and Brittney hasn't the time to climb off Star, having worked out her plan a few minutes too late, before a familiar masculine voice breaks the tense silence blanketing the entire room.

"What the hell is going on here?"


	8. Doll Face (Part 2)

**It would've made more sense if this was chapter 7 and then… oops… oh well. Yeah, this is like pre-Chapter 7's main event.**

 **As for my infrequent updating, I owe my readers an apology. I'm sorry for the lack of updates. It's totally my fault, as well.**

 **It took me over a week to sort out two chapters (it involved a lot of rearranging). Basically, the word document holding this story was and still is a mess. (I'm currently still reorganising them).**

 **None of the chapters were in order, so I had to read through all of the chapters (it never occurred to me that I might need to number them!) to put them in order, and then by the time I'd done that I realised like ¾ of the chapters were incomplete.**

 **So I wrote up like four different chapters, then remembered that I had stuff saved on NOTEPAD (snippets that were under review or rejected due to content/length) and some of it was actually relevant to the story, so I had to do a lot of editing to put them together.**

 **By the time I'd fixed everything, I forgot to actually update the story. So this chapter and others have been sitting on my computer for a week or so, because I've got the memory of a goldfish.**

 **And I'm also going on holiday for a week, so I decided to finish off at least two more chapters and update them (in the time I had whilst I was helping my sisters pack, doing chores around the house, etc.)**

 **On the bright side, though, my parents are actually letting me take my laptop, which is good. Even if there's no internet at the hotel, if I've got time, I can work on the next chapters (most of my chapters are like ¾ finished) and they should be ready like two days after the holiday.**

 **But seriously, I owe an apology to all my readers.**

 **Thank you for reading my speech/rant about why my memory and organisation skills are lacking, and I present chapter eight which stars a few themes:**

 **Starring: a GoT reference, underage drinking/sexing, swearing and any other horrible thing teenagers do at a party.**

* * *

 **Brittney**

"Turn." Justin orders, and Brittney turns, allowing her dress to fall down, exposing her chest. He nods in approval and smiles at her heartily. Her lips remained closed and she wouldn't exchange the smile.

"You pretty," he breathes, his hand snaking for her waist.

It stops there and Brittney leans ever so slightly into his touch. His fingers are just snagging her waist, but not in a painful way, but in slow, agonisingly slow movements.

Her breathing completely stops and a small smile plays at her lips, but the smile never quite turns the crank to full. Brittney's heart seems to break for a moment, even with his fingers upon her waist.

Even with the perfection of the moment.

"Drop… dress."

She nods and soon the whole dress pools at her ankles. Brittney peers over her shoulders, her body straight and elegant, womanly and graceful. She loves hearing him tell her that she's beautiful, telling her that he loves her.

Those words are her very reason for existing.

Brittney grins again and poses before the flash of his phone camera. Justin smirks back, and re-approaches her, as she allows his fingers to stray to her chest.

They don't move for a few seconds, both of them entangling and knotting their fingers, their left hands joined. Then his mouth falls upon her neck, and she throws her head back and rocks her hips, whispering quietly.

He continues and the silence drags on, and Brittney numbs the smell of alcohol clinging to them both.

But she says nothing because the words are burning her tongue and his tongue is burning her neck _and it feels amazing and she doesn't want it to ever stop_.

He's not drunk, she's just pretty, and she's taking pictures like a model.

Yes. _I'm a model_.

Brittney smiles again, inspecting her reflection in the mirror. It looks like she's been bitten, as she can clearly see what appear to be hickeys mounting her skin.

She says nothing, pressing her thumb against them.

Just in case they disappear, along with this experience. Slowly, she reaches for her dress, and whilst she's bent down, she can hear Justin sighing her name into her back, barring her from pulling it back on.

"Must… dress…" What comes out is nonsense, gibberish that he pretends not to hear or simply doesn't understand. Her fingers slip, playful and stubby again as she keeps trying to reattach her dress to her body.

"No. More pictures." The words are clear as day, ones that make her snap and drop her dress completely. He was asking for more pictures, maybe two or three more for him to keep.

Brittney agrees and consents, spreading a hand between the spill of her breasts. A smile is upon his face as she wraps the other hand around her waist, fluttering her eyelashes at the camera with her head resting upon her shoulders, eyes widened.

It was not so flattering a pose, exposing her hickeys to the flash of the camera.

Justin didn't seem to notice, taking another picture, with the click filling the silence in the room. She grinned so much she might as well have bared her teeth, as she watched him stumble over to the door and lock it.

Once the door was locked, she slumped, naked, onto her bed, on her side, as Justin slowly approached her, smiling.

His eyes were glinting too, perhaps with lust or even in a predatory manner. Or maybe they were glazed, because he was drunk.

"Very pretty," he slurs, collapsing onto her as she grins back. There were maybe two or three bottles of wine hidden in the bins and the rest were littering the floor of her living room. Not that her parents were going to notice or say anything.

"Me? Pretty? Thank…s."

"Yes. Very pretty," he repeats as he undoes his belt, sliding out of his trousers.

Neither of them quite acknowledged what was happening, as he dropped his phone onto the bedside cabinet and flopped onto the bed next to her. Without saying a word, she glanced up at him, and began to squirm about on the bed.

Until she was flat on her back, with him perching above her. They were so absorbed, they didn't realise the door was ajar and of course, unlocked.

And just outside the door was someone holding up their phone, recording the duo. They were both so drunk they couldn't even hear the door creak as it opened a little more, revealing enough for the phone's camera.

Justin grinned at Brittney, but she couldn't return it. Instead, she bared her teeth again as he reared up over her, bucking once, twice, only for a tiny smile to manipulate her lips. It lasted for seconds at best, before dissipating into nothing.

The phone's camera zoomed in, lingering over Brittney's bare chest in a brief, final shot, before a black-gloved hand reached for the phone, stopping the recording and snapping the phone shut.

With that, they spun on their heel and exited, closing the door silently behind them.

As soon as they finished, Brittney peeled Justin off her and suddenly felt the impact of the alcohol. She pulled her dress back on, forgetting to do up the buttons at the back, letting it hang loosely off her delicate frame.

Regardless of this, she rushed through the living room with a hand over her mouth, before reaching one of the closest bathrooms. And in the brief moment she was in the living room, she could feel everyone's eyes boring into her.

All of their eyes followed and judged her, but the only pair she saw were Marco's. They softened for a moment, but then he seemed to harden himself against it, and she felt his eyes beginning to freeze.

They'd freeze her too, if she'd stayed put.

The bathroom door was open, already, and she slammed it shut, dashing for the sink.

Then Brittney pulled her hand away from her mouth, and the vomit escaped within seconds, filling the entire sink beneath her. As she pulled on the tap with the blue head, the sink seemed to be filled with its own water.

The water washed away some vomit, and suddenly, the door was flung open. Star stood at it, her eyes gleaming coldly, yet it wasn't cold enough to make Brittney shiver.

Brittney glared for only seconds, the anger replaced by fear as her eyes fell upon the colourless substance in the vial Star was holding.

She froze, discovering that she was paralysed. When she tried to move, her muscles jerked and she jolted, barely moving from her position.

Star was no longer a nuisance, no; Star had evolved from a nuisance to a threat.

* * *

 **Marco**

"Marco, come quick!" A male voice cried out, and Marco followed it, stopping by the door of the bathroom.

Someone _other_ than himself had seen Star and Brittney fighting, and his heart sank in his chest when the thought dawned upon him.

He had failed.

But most importantly…

Star had failed him.

 _Why didn't she lock the door?_

 ** _Why didn't she lock the fucking door?_**

Hate was beginning to brew inside him, when the voice suddenly stopped and tinkled with joy and laughter. It was pretty obvious who was speaking, and he'd already identified the source of the voice before even catching a glimpse of their face.

He flexes his hands, and begins to glare at the direction of the voice, before softening his gaze and hiding behind a mask. His mask followed the gaze of the voice, stopping where it saw Brittney on top of Star.

"They were like, having a major catfight. Look, you pull 'em apart, check for casualties and stuff. I'm getting Alfonzo." Ferguson gushed, and by the time he'd spoken, he was off in a heartbeat.

 _The less people who know about this, the better…_

So the block-headed boy had decided to leave Marco, the mastermind behind the attack alone with… his doll and his nightmare?

He shut the door behind him as he stalked in, glancing at Brittney, who looked away, pouting. It was hilarious looking upon her – her face had been burned to the point where she was no longer Brittney, and an evil laugh began to build up in his throat.

"Not so pretty now." It was a rude quip, but one he was bursting to say.

That got her attention – her full attention, as he surveyed her face once more. It was completely burnt, he was right, and she appeared to have become blind in her left eye.

Or perhaps the eye was just completely ruined – it looked like it'd fall off if she dared to blink. The fragility of Brittney amazed and amused him – but he kept the mask on, changing his expression to concerned.

It was strange – he flipped a switch, which strengthened his voice before calling for his doll.

"Star?" He asks.

She looks up, scrambling from under Brittney and crawling to his feet. Her lips are pursed, but she says nothing, her eyes round and wide, about to burst out of her head.

There was something on her mind, but he couldn't quite detect what it was.

Brittney, in the background, yelled in fury at Star, but whatever she said was completely unintelligible. So he ignored her, and cast his look back to Star.

She too, was wordless.

He's about to beg her to say something to him, when she finally voices the conversation going back and forth in his mind.

"Yes?"

"Well done." The tone is strange and seems insincere, coming from him, but Star seems to accept it, rising until she's completely stood up.

Brittney remains in the shower, and Marco forces himself to comprehend the fact he can't leave her to die. That would violate everything he'd worked for, so he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, briefly pausing to blink at Star.

"When did you do it?" He murmurs.

"Around twenty minutes ago. Ferguson walked in and thought Brittney was attacking me."

"Good, good."

"Why did you-"

"Shush, Doll-Face. I'm making a call."

Star becomes quiet at the command, but locks her eyes onto Brittney. The coldness in her eyes makes him shiver, but mostly, it causes the inner monster within Marco to stir from his slumber.

Her inner monster was being channelled.

But there was some form of softness in it. That was it – Star was his steel doll. Frail, hanging by the strings of life, yet she had a monster within her, fighting and clashing with her daily in hopes of dominance.

Perhaps that was why Star was so strong, yet so weak. He looks on at her with admiration for a second, only to remember that he is her teacher and the master here.

She is a doll that he can rip the head off of within seconds.

And yet…

The thought is too strange. Marco reminds himself that he isn't equipped to deal with feelings, and thus draws himself back down to Earth.

"I'm making a call for her." He says, waving dismissively at the girl curled up into a ball, still in the shower.

When Brittney finally saw her face, she was probably going to become even more of a monster.

But would anyone care?

Beauty was everything, and this was something Brittney lacked now – and for once, Marco decided his hatred was justified.

He also knew he wasn't going to apologise for ruining Brittney's face.

Whether he was caught or not.

* * *

When the paramedics arrive, Star shows off her talents of acting, batting her eyelashes and crying wholeheartedly at the sight of Brittney's face. However, he can still feel her stiff, stony interior, making no comment, watching in astonishment.

 _Facial expression and body language._

Marco quietly ticks off all the performance skills Star uses to shape her character, mentally commending her. For a moment, he wonders if the character could be real – until he sees a brief cold glow in her eyes.

But she controlled herself so well he decided it was unimportant.

"We found her in here," Star begins, wiping a few crocodile tears from her eyes, even choking on her words. "Someone must've attacked her. We heard her screaming from the living room."

 _Vocal expression and tone._

One of the paramedics attempts to calm Star down, who continues to lament about how she could've stopped it from happening. Only when they turn their backs, does Star wipe the remaining tears away and smirk at Marco.

 _Well done, Doll._

He's sure that the smile he's giving her says enough about what he was thinking.

The minute they turn back around, Star returns to her routine.

"C-Can I hold her?"

The paramedics seemed uncertain, and sadness flickered in their eyes as they shook their heads. That was enough for her, as she stepped back, giving them a clear path out of the bathroom, and effectively, out of the house.

"We're sorry," they say, as they exit, "but we mustn't waste any time. We still don't know what acid she was attacked with."

As they finally leave, and both of them hear the door shut behind them, they walk straight to the window, peering out. And they both can see the ambulance distancing itself from the house until it's completely out of sight.

Walking out of the bathroom, they reach the kitchen, briefly stopping in the corridor. Most of the partygoers were out in the corridor, trying to work out who was in the ambulance.

Ferguson turns to see Star _and_ Marco.

The look he and Marco exchange is a knowing look, and Marco turns away, confidently sauntering over to the kitchen with Star following.

His eyes substitute words, before he leaves, as he glances at Ferguson with _the look_.

 _You wouldn't dare say a word._

Marco would spill their blood if it meant that his doll and Brittney's "encounter" remained a secret.

But why? He tried to rationalise himself, explain he was doing it for Star. A small voice told him that he needed to acknowledge he was the victim of unrequited love. However, Marco shut the voice out, trying to birth confidence.

He grits his teeth, reaching for Star's hand.

She says nothing, but grips it with certainty, looking up at him. Of course, he can barely meet her gaze, as he's sure he's still unfriendly looking as ever.

Besides, he and everyone else knew how dangerous he was now, with Doll-Face as a helper.

He smiles at her broadly, sliding onto a stool and loading his plate with the remaining snacks.

And she smiles back, much to his delight.

He leaves some food for her, and she takes what remains of the snacks.

The minute he's done this, he digs into the food on his plate.

Star doesn't pick at her food, but ravenously inhales the entire thing. Something about that makes sense, as he's seen her nibble crisps, bite into cakes, chew on one grape at the party.

So he _had_ done a good thing – Brittney was clearly poisoning his precious doll's mind, trying to make her think eating healthily was a _bad_ thing.

How dare she?

If Star wished to eat to her heart's content, she would eat to her heart's content.

Ferguson briefly flashed in his mind, and he wondered about Brittney.

"D'you know if Alfonzo's visited his wife lately?" Maybe that was the only way to get rid of Ferguson. Or perhaps to get rid of them both.

Was that fair? It had to be – Ferguson surely would've told Alfonzo what he'd seen, and perhaps hint at Marco's actions.

"Er… I don't think so." The stone walls enclosing her break down, replaced by awkwardness.

He says no more as he watches Star eat, feeling like he was on the side lines again, even though he'd had his cake and eaten it too.

Yet it was a feeling he didn't mind.


	9. The Stone Princess

**Wow. Thanks to all my very, very loyal readers for sticking with me, despite my lack of motivation. I suffered quite a bit of writer's block (putting aside the fact our hotel's WiFi didn't work – we were in a rural area, after all) as I returned weeks before today.**

 **Anyway, I wrote out four different chapters. They needed proof-reading for two days, but I was too tired and busy unpacking and helping everyone out to have this done. So I decided, a week – which stretched out to many more weeks of me proof-reading but not publishing.**

 **And I think it's because I was worried about these chapters. Nonetheless, they are finally finished and I'm glad to finally be able to update a bit more. Though updates might be a bit unstable still, due to exam results + celebrations.**

 **As you may know, recently, A Level results came out, followed by GCSEs. I only just got mine today – and spent weeks rocking in my bedroom, too scared to do anything and way too anxious to write. A major factor in why there were no updates.**

 **Considering the fact my parents were screaming and crying when they opened the envelope containing my results made me a bit more anxious. Then I looked. Everything went fine – better than fine – turns out I was worried for nothing.**

 **Oh yeah, because of exam season, there will be even more celebrations – since my sister and I's grades were quite good, we'll be celebrating with another trip (which I won't be able to take my laptop on) so I finally posted these.**

 **So yes, they're late – very late. And I'm truly sorry – but I won't lie when I say GCSEs are a crippling time (the stress… so much heartache).**

 **Very, very glad they're over and happy to release these next chapters.**

* * *

 **Marco**

 _Marco was being lifted up through a clashing kaleidoscope of colours, memories and voices. Pictures flashed through his mind, that of Jackie in an ill-fitting princess dress and Lars groaning in pain when Monster Arm hit him._

 _There was also Star, who grinned at him, twirling and swishing her billowing skirts beneath her. It was a graceful movement that made him drool, making him slowly approach her as their hands interlinked._

 _Suddenly, she went stiff, unable to move without making the sound of a standard doll._

 _The word 'doll' was upon his lips, as he reached for her, moving her without too much difficulty. She smiled gratefully, and they continued their dance._

 _Her skin seemed to give way, as she bent her arm, exposing the tips of her elbow and the doll-like structure. Eyes bigger, her waist shrunk before his very eyes, and her lips dyed to an impossible red._

 _She grabbed her wand, pointing it at herself, which continued the process, as Marco watched in amazement. He was truly mystified, quietly observing her as her nose began to shrink with the rest of her._

 _It stopped until she was around four feet, and a hair brush appeared in the solid coloured background, until a transition, sliding them across the screen of his dream, changed it to their shared bathroom._

 _The smell was distinct, that of nachos and Star's cheap perfume._

 _He was beginning to choke on the perfume, until she thrust the hairbrush into his outstretched hand. So he took it and gestured for her to turn, watching how her hair swung, brushing the tip of her skirt._

 _She was beautiful._

 _His doll was beautiful._

 _Marco smiled slightly, dragging the brush through the already perfect hair, giving it several strokes. Soon, he forgot himself in the journey the brush made through the golden jungle atop Star's head. Nothing but peace engulfed him, as his eyelids fluttered._

 _They say nothing to each other, as the setting changes and the hairbrush disappears in a burst of light, smashing into tiny pieces. Millions and millions of tiny pieces floated around in the air that they both inhaled and took in, with each movement._

 _And the scene was now Brittney's door. Just outside of it, where Marco was preparing to give her the vial. It was a memory that stained his mind with both pleasure and guilt. The pleasure mostly overshadowed the guilt._

 _Star's movements became rigid, stiffer, as he led her back through the party, remembering to hand her the vial. The vial changed, stretching out in size and widening slightly, before it became a coffee cup._

 _Marco was losing control._

 _Of everything. Of his own dream._

 _This is my dream! He tries to scream, but nothing and nobody pays attention to it as they fall through the ground, landing in a coffee shop. Marco blinks to clear his vision, realising that his doll is sipping at a cup of coffee._

 _Snatching it from her, he forcibly tears the lid off it, discovering that it's filled with the colourless substance. The nitric acid._

 _Brittney appeared behind him, determinedly wrestling it from his grasp. They fought with Star watching, Marco flailing and flapping his arms in an attempt to yank it out of her hands. But Brittney held on with the strength of a bull, suddenly tilting it forward._

 _Marco's hands tried to steady his body, but he came crashing down to the ground. The entire dream world shook with an earthquake as he fell, and faded into black for a few seconds. When the blackness slowly parted, it revealed the image of Brittney stood above him._

 _A torrent of colourless liquid splashes down on him, burning as soon as it makes contact._

 _He screams._

 _And it's not just any scream, the scream turns from that of agony to a low scream to an aggressive growl. The growl rumbles within him, and begins to rip his mind apart, as he launches himself at Brittney, with his doll quietly watching._

 _Her body is still rigid, slowly rising from the seats, where she rests a smooth, plastic hand onto his, using her large eyes to hypnotise him._

 _It works, as he releases Brittney from his grasp._

 _However, it's too late – Brittney accidentally tosses the cup into the air in the moment of surprise, and all three of them watch the coffee cup levitate like the hairbrush in silence._

 _Then it explodes, bursting into nothing._

* * *

 **Brittney**

Two weeks of her life had been hell, or at least, her parents said it had.

They'd confirmed that she'd been in a coma for at least ten days, but Brittney couldn't recall anything, because there were voices in her head.

The voices had arrived unannounced, and had warned her not to tell the doctors.

These voices whispered hate, and they were louder than life. Occasionally, she couldn't hear other people speaking, like the butler, who served her breakfast, because their whispering seemed to overpower his low tone.

It all started when she realised who'd carried out the acid attack – but when she'd rushed to inform her parents, she was met with "You need a rest," and was ushered back to her bedroom.

When she arrived to her room, she'd discovered her window was shut, when it had been open a moment ago.

Her laptop was also buzzing and switched on, with a sticky note taped to it.

The voices argued, their voices buzzing like the laptop, in the space of her mind. She didn't stop them, slightly amused by how the argument was clearly going back and forth in circles. Whilst they argued, she read the note.

 _Watch the video. – John Doe_

Then the fear set in, and the squabbling voices finally stopped, their voices clashing and echoing over each other.

 _Who's John Doe?  
_ _ **WHO'S JOHN DOE?  
**_ WHO'S JOHN DOE?

Hands shaking, she'd torn the sticky note off the laptop and logged into her account as swiftly as possible. She was sure before she'd even clicked to watch the CD's contents what was on it.

 _THAT BASTARD_ _ **THATBASTARD**_ THATBASTARD

The key to her becoming a social leper. Although her memory of the party was foggy, she knew about her dress, Marco's eyes and the acid.

All of this had resulted in isolation from her classmates.

Who were probably gossiping about her dying from alcohol poisoning, or some other garble about the events of the party. Only Ferguson, Marco, Star, and possibly Alfonzo would really twig onto the consequences of her fight with Star.

Brittney pushes the thought out of her mind, as the video begins to play.

The recording was smooth without the sound of breathing and steadily held camera, showing her and Justin at the party.

Brittney exhaled sharply, and continued watching despite the voices begging her not to, telling her they'd find a way to stop - she examines the sticky note for the name – this "John Doe," but she had a hard time believing them.

"Quiet." She hisses to the sounds still working inside her mind.

The video ends, the camera focussing on her intently, and Brittney weeps a little. Quietly, so that her parents won't come in – if they saw the deed she'd done in her _own_ bed they'd kill her.

Sweat drips off her hands, beading on her forehead.

 _You're too pretty to die.  
_ _ **NOT SO PRETTY NOW.**_

As the video ends, the background changes to a solid black colour, with white writing and captioning. Brittney's eyes skim the message in panic, and she's on the verge of fainting – but she remains wordless.

 _Your face is ruined. What about your reputation?_

 _P.S. Don't bother deleting the video. I've got back-ups._

Who…?

 _It's got to be Marco._ That's the first suspect the voice mutters, their voice sweet and lingering in her mind.

But it makes no sense.

She ruled him out, when she remembered he was with Alfonzo and Ferguson, listening to karaoke, but refusing to take part.

There was no way he'd have slipped out within two seconds, headed all the way up three flights of stairs and proceed to fly down the stairs to escape, having filmed them and saved the recording, without rousing suspicion.

"Your idea doesn't make sense." She explains, twiddling her thumbs.

 ** _My idea is better: Star._**

The second name made more sense, but the second voice seemed to parallel the first, with a coarse and gruff sounding tone. Nonetheless, she whispered her agreement to the voice, aware that Star had been in the kitchen.

She easily could have slipped through the house. Hell, that girl was a mini-ghost, with her cheeks whitening to the colour of sheets. And being a ghost meant she easily could blend in her surroundings.

Plus, she wasn't _with_ anyone.

Yet she never left Marco's side, almost like she was a dog. Brittney hadn't seen her – she easily could've slipped into karaoke with Alfonzo and Marco after she'd gone upstairs.

 ** _Yes, but you don't know that, remember? She's probably the culprit._**

"No, she's not. That doesn't make sense."

 ** _It does! She lacks an alibi and she has the motive: she doesn't like you_** _._

"That's the pettiest reason I've ever heard."

 ** _Which is the very definition of a girl-_**

Brittney blots out the voice, fiercely praying that she'll figure out some sort of solution to this.

 _Who else could be John Doe? Why would they ruin my face? What do I look like?  
_ _ **MAYBE THEY DIDN'T RUIN YOUR FACE.  
**_ They have a point.

Her thoughts jumble themselves, and start to focus on her, as opposed to the threat in front of them. The omnipresent threat that lingers by her computer, the internet, and someone's hands.

Before she can stop herself, her hands touch and smooth her cheeks, and she runs a finger over the ruined skin. They said she was lucky, that only half her face had been ruined – yet her parents had removed all the mirrors from her room.

What she could feel substituted the mirrors, though – there were her surprisingly fatter cheeks, and smooth, yet wrinkly feeling forehead. The rest of her face was basically the same as before.

A quiet, muffled weep, suddenly entered the room. And despite her efforts to stop it, she felt herself shuddering, her lip quivering, as she slowly reached her window. But she still couldn't see her face; all she could do was feel the damage.

She hated Marco _and_ Star more than ever.

What about Sabrina?

A third voice enters the mix, but this voice is strangely unstable, and seems deceptive.

She shakes her head, more tears spilling down her cheeks. It couldn't be Sabrina – Sabrina idolised her and loved her to the point of obsession. And if it was, that was flat-out betrayal. Maybe the girl harboured unforeseen personality traits.

But still, the theory made little sense.

Maybe Sabrina would help her if she asked.

Or perhaps Sabrina was pure material, and was using Brittney to thread herself into the strings of life.

Something about that made Brittney sigh, and the voices disappeared, leaving her to think about other things.

Although Brittney repressed the thought of Sabrina, it still dug at the back of her mind.

Her phone lay on the bedside cabinet, and it reminded her, quite quickly, of Justin. He'd taken pictures of her… in compromising positions.

She _had_ to convince him to delete them, to delete her from his life entirely. To delete her from the internet, from John Doe's mindscape. Brittney realised how drunk and stupid she'd acted at the party, and the regret was heavy.

Too heavy for her to carry by herself. She at least needed to physically express the regret.

More tears sprung from her eyes, growing larger with each tremor of her body. The phone was in her hands, and she was desperately tapping at the buttons to beg Sabrina to look at her, to tell her what she looked like, to tell her she was still beautiful.

 _Hi, Sabrina. Could you come over? I'll open my window and you can climb up the house, around the back. My parents won't let me have anyone over, so…_

Brittney presses the send button so quickly a sharp pain shoots through her finger. It lasts so briefly she ignores it, falling to the ground and rocking herself, next to her bed.

Seconds later, her phone buzzed and vibrated in her hand.

Brittney eagerly switched on her phone and checked for a response.

Surely enough, it was there, from Sabrina.

 _Lol sounds like a job I can do. Is something up? I'll come so we can talk._

Brittney sat in silence, unsure what she was going to say to Sabrina or what Sabrina would say to her. What if she scared off Sabrina?

 _That's not possible. Sabrina's your friend._

 _Is she, really?_

There's no reply.

* * *

 **Star**

The stars of the night glistened, indicating that it was time to sleep. However, the pattern of the stars made it impossible for Star to sleep. Something about them reminded her of Mewni and her silky, comfortable bed.

She longed to rest on it just once more, to smooth her hands over the soft furs of the pillows or order a servant to fluff them for her. The commands burned in her throat, as she reminded herself she was no longer royalty.

Mewni was a dead memory that her mother's advisers had trampled into the mud. Even when the memories died, the advisers went as far to console Star through their emotionless, thoughtless letters.

Did they not understand that she was returning for justice? The minute she became queen, they'd all be executed. Perhaps she'd use it for public entertainment, forcing them to partake in games that were just torture.

At least it would teach them that paper was not a suitable substitute for living parents.

The time to pray had just arrived. Though, with the death of everyone around her, it occurred to Star that the Gods she'd been faithful to were works of fiction. As horrifying as it was, she'd hardened herself against it, creating her own prayer.

"Mother. Father. Axel." Her voice is quiet, soft even, as she dreams of her parents. Both of them were gone, and Axel, the one good thing she could've had was also gone.

"They were nothing more than false imagery I worshipped. Justice shall smite them and uncover the ugly idols' eyes, so they may see themselves plunge into the fiery wasteland." Star finishes her prayer, and her mind drifts off to Axel.

He could still be alive.

Perhaps he hadn't forgotten her.

How old would Axel be now?

Eight-and-ten? Seven-and-ten? Six-and-ten?

It didn't matter. He was royalty, and she was not.

She sighed, rising up from her kneeling position and climbing into bed. Axel still prodded her mind, but she decided that he was already married – perhaps that would sever any connection she had ever had with him.

Besides, Star was sure she'd find joy in Marco. He had taught her not to stay in her princess persona, and Star loved that someone was finally accepting it. But it came to her mind that she still needed to be The Stone Princess in order to control others.

That was the sullen, emotionless void that spoke with a clipped tone. A reflection of her mother – something she didn't have to be.

Yet she liked her, despite all the trouble she brought upon Star Butterfly.

Tiredness finally begins to overcome Star.

"Lights – off." She commands, and the whole room is flooded by darkness. Star turns onto her side and stares at the wall for a few moments. Everything she'd learnt about being a princess seemed to only have retained half its relevance.

 _Whatever I have learnt being a princess does not matter._

 _Because I am no princess. I am a warrior._


	10. The Brittney Thing (Part 1)

**Overview: Brittney despises being imprisoned within her own home, and Sabrina hears her cry for help. John Doe takes their interest in Brittney up a notch by meeting Brittney in person.**

* * *

 **Sabrina**

She dragged a pen across the board, pointing and explaining each label as she went along. Brittney sat on her bed, focussing on the board as opposed to Sabrina.

That was a relief – the girl's face was similar to that of a squashed pig's. Though Sabrina had no intent of letting Brittney know this, she continued expanding on each area of the plan, then finished talking.

"Questions?"

"Yeah – my parents aren't going to let me out. I must look hideous if-"

"You at least deserve to see what you look like."

"I… guess."

"I got in through your window. That's how we're going to get out."

The lack of the response was only sort of startling. Maybe Brittney's family was so determined that she didn't leave the house they had guards or something. Perhaps that's why Brittney had been forced to text her.

Her parents must've been downstairs, cocking their ears to pick up on any speech from Brittney, who was now huddling on her bed. So everything in the house was virtually monitored, likely meaning the bedroom was heavily monitored – heavier than other areas.

"Okay – you might as well just open your window, using your bedsheets to climb out like they do in the movies."

"That's absolutely ridiculous."

Sabrina bit her lip, but nodded in agreement.

 _Yes, yes, my plan's stupid. Nobody should listen to it._

"Do you have drainpipes or ledges or something?"

"What kind of house doesn't?" The sarcastic response isn't that much of a shock to Sabrina, who brushes it off and forces herself not to burst into tears. Or start begging Brittney to forgive her for her stupidity.

 _Then there you go_ , Sabrina thinks to herself, as she runs straight to the window. Her hand gripped the window's handle, and she turned it, pulling it open.

"Hang on," she mutters, leaning slightly out of the window, then tilting her head down to see if there were ledges or a drainpipe within their reach.

One of them was black, stretching down to the house, and there were various other ledges dotted over the house, but they were fairly far down from where she was looking. If they were lucky, they could've climbed down the drainpipe.

But she can see that the drainpipe's instability increased as it extended to the gardens, but perhaps it fed to the ledges scattered around it. They could probably make the jump from ledge to ledge.

Sabrina frowns in concentration, causing the image before her to blur.

Then she casts her gaze back to the drainpipe, which seems wide enough to support her weight, and Brittney's. Surely, though, they couldn't both go at once. She tries to think of a solution, but instead finds herself planning out a journey.

It starts with them hopping out the window, their hands scrabbling to grab the drainpipe, as Sabrina slides down first, landing on a ledge.

The curtains for the other rooms are drawn, to prevent anyone driving past to see Brittney, she assumes.

Her family had become a lot more determined to hide her – she could understand why, but felt a small amount of sadness for Brittney. Sabrina checked it off in her mental tick list – nobody would see them leaving.

The ledge was still too high to jump from. Her eyes sweep across the house's rear, stopping upon a second ledge, to the right of the first one she'd seen. If they made the jump, they'd be close enough to the ground to jump.

Providing they made the jump.

 _Is it worth the risk?_

She turns back to Brittney, opening her mouth to speak, only to close it when she sees her misty eyes, the fog sticking to her ghostly, yet exaggerated flesh. It was probably one of the strangest things she'd ever seen – even the ruined side of her face was crying.

"I worked it out." She blurts, as Brittney begins to run her hands under her eyes, forcing the tears out and effectively wiping her face clean from all emotion. Sabrina watched in fascination as Brittney's face became a blank slate.

"Follow me. Down the drainpipe, get to the third ledge on your way there. Then jump to the ledge on the right, and jump to the ground. Clear?"

"You'll need to repeat that."

Sabrina rolls her eyes playfully, smiling at Brittney.

Brittney smiles too, through the dried tears.

"Down the drainpipe, third ledge on the way – then jump to the ledge on the right. And finally jump onto the ground."

"Down, third, right, ground... alright, I've got it."

"Good," Sabrina says, before she hoists herself out the window, disappearing down the drainpipe. She clings to it tightly, quietly repeating her own instructions under her breath before she leaps to the third ledge on the right.

And she lands.

Now, there was the next ledge.

It seems further away than it actually is, but Sabrina forces herself to waddle awkwardly all the way to the right of her current ledge, before lifting her head, to see Brittney, with a shawl pinned to half of her face.

 _Oh, Brittney._

The opaque wrap covers her, flapping like a curtain in the wind, as Brittney slowly makes her way down the drainpipe, taking each care with each shift she makes to avoid letting the air whip away her mask.

 _She's catching up!_

Sabrina literally takes a leap of faith, and her feet snag the ledge on the right – but slip, as her hands shoot out, clawing and desperately clasping the ledge.

She whimpers, slowly pulling herself up, exhaling deeply in relief as she stands, stabilising herself.

The ground seems much further down than it is – but she turns her head again, seeing Brittney waiting for her to move, almost down the drainpipe. So she falls, and for a brief moment, she feels herself flying.

Everything, including the birds and clouds seem to be within her reach, as she swipes the sky with a hand, before discovering that she'd never flown up into the sky.

Rolling on the grass, she starts laughing in both glee and relief, until she spots the gates.

Another obstacle for her to overcome, another mini-game.

They were in the large garden, filled with grass and all sorts of flowers. Sabrina begins wading through the ankle length grass, standing so she can see Brittney and her progress on the house's walls.

Brittney anxiously judges the distance from the ledge, but still throws herself off, before landing on the next one.

At least her landing was neater than Sabrina's.

Sabrina watches curiously, waiting for Brittney to jump onto the ledge to the right, turning for a brief moment to scrutinise the surprisingly high gates, searching for anything to climb up and get around the gates.

 _Bingo._ The internal voice whispers, as she scrabbles to find some sort of holds for her feet and hands. When she figures them out, she beckons for Brittney to come to her who lies, motionless, in the grass.

"This way." Sabrina hisses, pointing and making as obvious and vast a gesture to the gate possible. Brittney picks up on the message immediately, and tightens her shawl, before outstretching her hands and gripping the gates.

"I've never done this before," she tells Sabrina, who laughs, as she swings herself off the gates and onto the pavement, patiently waiting for her.

"I don't think anyone has." They're staring at each other by this point, with Sabrina awkwardly shifting from toe to toe.

"True. Let's go, then."

They steal through the day, with Brittney trailing behind Sabrina, undetected, until they finally reach a department store.

"This has to be quick. Your parents'll realise you're missing soon, so you need to run in and check your reflection."

"I don't get why you didn't just bring a mirror."

"You have to admit that it's way more fun this way."

"I guess. Didn't know you were one for adventure, Sabrina."

 _There is much you do not know about me._

She grins and says _No problem_ as Brittney shyly mutters thanks, then sees Brittney vanish with a swish of the automatic doors, the shop swallowing her whole.

* * *

 **John Doe**

In she came – attempting to blend in and hide behind a group of girls all fingering a rack of shirts, giggling excitedly. The girl in the shawl continued, neatly weaving through the racks before snatching up a shirt in a rush, still on the move.

They waited patiently, their eyes trained on her – Brittney. Although she considered herself impossible to be seen, the shawl gave her away immediately. Their eyes follow her as she stops by the fitting rooms, holding a pair of sunglasses and a shirt.

Brittney wore also incredibly distinct shoes – they were black flats, with small bows attached to their tips.

Quickly, they grab a shirt from the rack next to them – one that clearly wasn't their size – but they couldn't risk losing sight of Brittney, so they sped off, only to be stopped by an assistant.

She smiled, and John tried to let a smile penetrate their lips. Nothing came through – their eyes stayed pale and dead – yet it still didn't affect the assistant. The smile tightened on her face when she saw the small shirt in John's hand.

But they made no comment.

Time was disappearing with each second wasted talking to the assistant – they needed to get rid of her, fast.

"Are the fitting rooms that way?" They point to the left.

"Yes." She points in the same direction, smiling. Her lips are pursed, and John dares her to question the size of the shirt. She seems to understand not to say a word.

"Thank you," they murmur, briskly heading in the left direction, cradling the shirt in one hand – the assistant moves out of their way immediately.

As soon as they're out of sight, the shirt is flung down and John Doe immediately inspects each of the booths for the same shoes they'd spotted on Brittney's feet. The black flats had returned, in one of the booths making the least noise.

They stop, crouching slightly to check if the person could possibly be Brittney – who they were sure was a prisoner in their own home. Her face had been destroyed, they'd heard, to the point where her parents refused to release her from the house.

And if only John would be able to sneak one look at her… it was finally possible.

She'd be the perfect subject – and perhaps they could convince her to bring Sabrina with her. It'd be perfect. Two people for the price of one.

John Doe blinks, and the doors of a booth swing open, revealing Brittney.

She almost leaves, almost escapes, with the too-big sunglasses perching upon her face, unfolding them and enveloping herself in her shawl.

John finds themselves stood behind her.

Their hands, fingertips, writhe, until they reach her shoulder – they can feel her jolt to attention, swivelling to face the pair of eyes stood before her.

In a brief moment, John pulls their hood up slightly, exposing only their cold gaze and frozen eyes, seizing the shawl, as they both watch it flutter to the ground.

"Hey!" She protests, seemingly unaware that they can see the damage, her secret.

In those temporary moments where Brittney has her gaze on something other than the shawl, John subtly drops a slit of paper into it. With their hood pulled up over most of their face, they keep their semi-blind look upon Brittney.

By the time Brittney acknowledges her exposed face it's too late – John sprints through the shop, praying that she'll take long enough to reattach her shawl that by the time she even exits the changing rooms, they'd have gone with the whistle of the wind and the high-pitched chirping of the birds.

A bird mimics the same noise they imagined, and they catch a glimpse of another girl – Sabrina – looking on at them with surprise, with a bemused expression – before everything stops and their feet are pounding on the ground.

Breaths heave out of them, curling around their throat and attempting to choke the fight out of them, as the image of Brittney's face plays over and over in their mind. The image is so vivid that they can't block it out, conceal it into the deep folds of their mind.

"Good Gods." Their voice is hoarse, the words interrupted with small coughs.

Sabrina is long behind them, and they can only see roads stretching out, a fork sure to appear eventually.

John smiles with the knowledge they're safe, and their feet continuing padding on the ground, still running.


	11. The Brittney Thing (Part 2)

**Overview: Brittney sends out several texts, but only receives one from John Doe. When Marco's dominance is threatened, he seeks out Janna. John Doe begins to toy with Ferguson.**

 **Contains: Texting, foul language and various other things. Mentions of nude pictures.**

* * *

To: Brittney  
From: Sabrina

Are you okay? You're not picking up your phone.

Did something happen in the department store?

 **…**

To: Sabrina  
From: Brittney

I'm fine. I've just got a lot on my plate.

Nothing happened at the store – I just have to sort some stuff out.

 **…**

To: Justin  
From: Brittney

Hey Justin. We were both pretty drunk at my birthday, and I know you took some pictures… where I was completely naked. I don't want any trouble… so…

Could you delete them?

 **…**

To: Brittney  
From: Justin

I _did_ delete them… and I scrolled through my phone.

I may or may not have drunk texted them to Alfonzo, Ferguson and maybe everyone on my contacts list D:

Sorry :(

Dw though I'll tell them to delete them.

 **…**

To: Justin  
From: Brittney

Are you fucking kidding me?

 **…**

To: Brittney  
From: Justin

Cool it. I said I'll get them to delete them.

 **…**

To: Justin  
From: Brittney

You're dead to me.

 **…**

To: Justin  
From: Brittney

So? You're dead to everyone at Echo Creek Academy.

 **…**

To: Ferguson  
From: Brittney

I know you've got my nude pictures. I was drunk, alright? I made stupid decisions, now please delete those pictures.

Find something else to jerk off to. I sure as hell don't want it to be me.

 **…**

To: Brittney  
From: Alfonzo

Don't worry about your pictures. I deleted them anyway; they were an invasion of your privacy.

Besides, I'm already married.

 **…**

To: Alfonzo  
From: Brittney

Not even gonna ask about the marriage thing.

Thanks for deleting the pictures, though.

 **…**

To: Brittney  
From: Ferguson

Whoops, accidentally posted your pictures onto the World Wide Web. I'm sorry.

So we're clear, many things happened at that party. Including me drunkenly putting those pictures up on the internet.

I'll take them down, since Alfonzo gave me this lecture about privacy and shit.

 **…**

To: Ferguson  
From: Brittney

You've really fucked up now, haven't you?

That's how John Doe got my pictures – through the internet. When they're all deleted people are still going to know I took them.

People will have them on their phones and stuff.

Thanks a lot, Ferguson.

 **…**

To: Brittney  
From: Ferguson

Don't be a bitch. I did say sorry, and plus, I was drunk and you were drunk.

It's not like you're going to have to worry about it. The pictures have been taken off the website, and barely anyone's downloaded them.

So few people know about your nudes, you dirty bastard.

Anyway, who the hell's John Doe?

 **…**

To: Ferguson  
From: Brittney

Gee, thanks, Ferguson.

Too bad that they can easily spread those pictures between themselves and turn me into a walking social leper. As for John Doe, that's none of your business.

FUCK YOU, FERGUSON. FUCK YOU.

 **…**

To: Brittney  
From: Ferguson

Fuck, you're not grateful for anything. You don't even care that you live in like, the best house ever with the most money and best clothes and life.

Wow – you're nothing more than a spoiled brat and I'm sick of you.

Those pictures _deserve_ to get spread.

Plus, I know what you said to Alfonzo.

He won't "stroke himself off" to them, but hundreds of people around the world will.

Even when you get the website taken down, like ten more will pop up within 24 hours.

Maybe if you'd be grateful for something for just once I wouldn't do this.

 **…**

To: Ferguson  
From: Brittney

You think my life is perfect?

After the acid attack my parents locked me in my room, and took all the mirrors out. I didn't even know what I looked like until Sabrina snuck me out the house and took me to a department store.

I took those pictures when I was drunk. Any thought I had was totally clouded over and my judgement was poor.

Look, I'm sorry for my rude response, but don't you get it? Are you seriously that dense?

I'm scared. I don't want anyone else to see those pictures.

 **…**

To: Brittney  
From: Ferguson

Ik you're scared. I didn't seriously keep those pictures up. You were being so bitchy; I just snapped and was bitchy back. About 90% of everything I said there wasn't even true.

Most of the pictures are gone, and it's pretty unlikely this'll get out of Echo Creek.

So calm your ass.

 **…**

To: Everyone  
From: John Doe

This is a mass text – dedicated to the ladies out there. As for the men, keep your eyes on them, otherwise they'll claw each other's eyes out.

Nobody asked her why she burned out with upon her lips a grin.  
Nobody asked her why she smiled, watching her blood thin.  
Nobody asked her why she scowled when she was announced free.  
Nobody asked her why she wept when released from lock and key.  
Nobody asked her why she laughed before her head rolled under the axe.  
Nobody asked her why or when in both mind and body she finally cracks.

P.S. Star is no doll, Marco. She's a princess.

 **…**

To: John Doe  
From: Ferguson

Wtf?

 **…**

To: Ferguson  
From: John Doe

Vulgar language isn't appreciated here, Ferguson. I know that you're lying to Brittney, and no amount of obscenities can cover that up. Whether you tell her or not is your job.

There are ways of reforming yourself, escaping this life – and it lies in Quest Buy. A mortal such as yourself doesn't belong there, but there's something about your essence that draws you to it.

The sooner you go, the better it is for you to finally wash your hands clean of this whole affair.

 **…**

To: Marco  
From: Ferguson

I haven't seen you for a while but you've got to check this out. This creep, John Doe, sent me like, the weirdest message ever.

I bet you got it too. It was like a poem-y thing and then they sent me this when I said wtf:

Vulgar language isn't appreciated here, Ferguson. I know that you're lying to Brittney, and no amount of obscenities can cover that up. Whether you tell her or not is your job.

There are ways of reforming yourself, escaping this life – and it lies in Quest Buy. A mortal such as yourself doesn't belong there, but there's something about your essence that draws you to it.

The sooner you go, the better it is for you to finally wash your hands clean of this whole affair.

JD's being weird and vague, I don't like it. And JD even knows about Brittney – which I need to talk to you about.

Text me back.

 **…**

To: Marco  
From: Alfonzo

Ferguson told me about Brittney and Star. It's weird, but I'm not gonna ask.

After all, it is your business.

 **…**

To: Alfonzo; Ferguson  
From: Marco

So JD knows.

There's still Janna to help us out. She'll figure out who they are with ease.

JD's only going to last for like a day before returning with their tail between their legs.

As for Quest Buy, I'm pretty sure it's a trap.

 **…**

To: Marco  
From: Ferguson

JD "expressed sympathy" for me. JD may or may not know something about the Brittney and Star thing. But it's not like, bad or anything. It's just a bit alarming and… y'know.

 **…**

To: Ferguson  
From: Marco

Lmfao "expressed sympathy."

Ferg, JD's pushing you to go to Quest Buy. There's clearly something there that you don't need to see.

Instead of going to Quest Buy, why don't we just go to Pixtopia? Let Alfonzo visit his wife or something.

 **…**

To: Marco  
From: Ferguson

Idc if you don't want me to go. I'll just get Star to take me.

Plus, perfect moment for me and Star to finally spend alone time, right?

And besides, Star said that those pixies just wanted to eat me.

It's like you're trying to kill me lol


	12. Advanced Feelings

**After a long, long break, I'm back! And if I'm honest, I've run out of ideas for Local Foreigner. However, if the ideas do come to me, I'll update straight away. With this story, I've still got a few ideas (after a seriously long hiatus) that I think you guys might like.**

 **I'm so sorry to everyone who was waiting for updates to Local Foreigner, but you'll be waiting a while. And for all those deadlines I've missed, I'm really sorry about those two. Life is kind of hectic right now, and I'm not sure when the next update is. Though one thing's for sure, I'm determined to finish both stories.**

 **Without further ado, this is Chapter 12:**

* * *

 **Star**

She was looking through her newly bought phone, when she noticed a mass text from someone she'd never heard of. A few lines came up on the phone, but she couldn't help but address Marco for confirmation.

"Marco, d'you know a John Doe?"

"A John Doe's a corpse that the identity isn't known of… so… er… no?"

"Well, he sent me a text."

Marco seems convinced by that point, that he must've received one as well. As he read it, studying his phone, she noticed his grip tighten on the phone, a clear indicator of rage. This made her slink back slightly, glancing over at him for permission.

"Marco?" Perhaps the text was incredibly long and he was still reading it. Perhaps he wasn't angry with her, or the text, or at all.

That all changed when his face contorted in rage, and he turned to Star, a low growl spilling out of him, which was enough to make Star whimper. However, the rage seemed to fade after a few minutes, and he muttered inaudibly for her to check her phone.

The glowing screen seemed to mock her, stitching its message over the screen, forcing her to glue her eyes to it. Eventually, she tore her eyes away, feeling weights upon her eyes as they brought themselves back to Marco.

"I don't know who they think they are…" he begins, angrily gesturing with his hands.

She can't take her eyes off his, nodding when she knows she must and feeling more trapped than ever. Star wills for Axel to kill her, if it means she can finally escape Marco in death. But the voices continue to prod her mind.

She'd be descending through the fiery wasteland like her Priestess. And for once, she finally felt something… something that wasn't quite negative, but it wasn't positive. The feeling was short-lived, as Marco brought her back to Earth.

"You read it." The monotone returns, and Star nods, anxiously licking her lips, still seeing Marco loom over her.

His hands were lazily resting by his belt, and she knew that at any moment, he could unclasp it and thwack her with it. As she read through the text, she felt his eyes boring into her, judging each twitch, every time she fiddled.

"Bullshit. So fucking much of it."

Star never lifts her eyes from the floor.

"What are you going to do, then?"

"Janna's pretty good with computers. We'll figure out who John Doe is and… we'll eradicate them."

Marco presses his thumb against his phone, possibly the text message, applying more and more pressure – as if he could crush John Doe like a bug.

"But-" The look she gets from Marco silences her completely, as she anxiously sweeps her eyes around his room.

"Your parents don't like Janna. They'd never let you see her." A small amount of jealousy began to sprout inside Star, at the idea of Marco showing attention to anyone other than her.

He couldn't possibly…

"They're at work, Star. They're not going to find out, and you're not going to tell them."

A hunk of her hair was clasped in his hand by this point, with her eyes beginning to water. She tried to keep her face cold and disinterested, but it hurt, it hurt so much.

"No." It's one syllable, one word, but the bitterness in her tone is not strong enough for Marco to detect, as she keeps eye-contact with him, begging him to consider her feelings.

"No?"

"No. I won't." Her voice is more determined this time.

The appeal doesn't work, as he jerks his hand away, holding a few strands of hair, which he carelessly tosses into the air. They both dwell in silence, with Star wondering if she hates Marco, and Marco probably only thinking of Janna.

 _Fire dances in her eyes, and warriors cloaked in black armour snarled, glaring and drooling, their fury oozing out as the **WITCH** approaches the gates. The warriors look to their queen to launch the attack – and in every breath drawn she wastes a chance to announce the attack._

 _Instead, she lays tangled in the arms of the knight, unable to escape as he slowly suffocates her. Perhaps the **WITCH** is her only hope._

Her dream sequence only lasts for a minute, as Marco drags her up, off the bed, and the two of them exit the house.

* * *

 **Janna**

"You want me to hack into someone else's computer?" Janna asked, leaning back in her chair.

Marco rolled his eyes, and Star silently seethed next to him, but appeared to be hiding in her own little world. For a few moments, she thought she saw loathing flicker in Star's eyes, who seemed to be struggling to control herself.

"They're not someone else; Janna," he snarled, "it's John Doe."

"Pretty much is, Marco. Anyway – I'll do it…"

She smirked, trailing off her sentence with Marco seeming more curious than he was furious.

Sighing, he asked the question she wanted to hear.

"What do you want, then?"

"Star's wand would be great-" she stopped as Star glared at her, and laughed a little bit.

"However, she's not going to agree to hand it over. There is something… something in Quest Buy that I want."

She lets the words hang in the air, seeing Star's expression transition to horror, and then disgust, casting a scathing glance in her direction, as Marco covers his forehead with a hand.

I'm sorry – did I give you a headache?

"Quest Buy?" The speaker, this time, is Star. Her tone is both irate and stupefied – yet still quiet and mystical in its own way. Janna cocks her head, unable to tell if the voice really is coming out of Star's mouth.

Or is at least in any way, connected to her mind.

"What could you possibly want there? Have you been there before or something? How do you even know it exists?"

She rolls her eyes. "Remember Glossaryck?"

"Seriously? He told you?" That's the closest Star comes to losing her temper, before Marco shuts her up with a low growl. Her slowly reddening face whitens to the colour of fear. Janna watches them in awe and confusion, wondering if the spell could be broken.

Quite quickly, Star had directed her gaze to the floor, quivering. His eyes were still trained upon her.

What, does he train her? The hell have I stumbled upon?

Janna kept her expression blank, but the questions echoed in her mind.

"Hang on," Marco begins, consulting his phone for a few moments, before resuming, "then we might as well kill two birds with one stone…"

Seriously? She huffs, but allows him to continue when his head jerks. She really could do without the Star treatment – who was currently sulking in the corner, her face akin to thunder.

"Ferguson should come too. I think I'm going to have to give you the lowdown on John Doe…"

"You will."

Star's hands suddenly fall upon Marco's, and Janna's eyes glaze over, as she wears her mask of interest.

He was not an unintelligent being, yet… she couldn't help but immediately note the flaws in Star's performance. How could he possibly fall for it?

Her body didn't move completely, even as she fluttered her eyelashes, convincing him with her tears not to tell her anything, almost like she didn't realise Janna heard every word.

I must.

You can't!

"Quit squabbling, you two."

Star's jaw was suddenly rigid, and her entire face faded back into stone. That was all she was in the first place – made of stone.

They both stop, and Marco fires a glare in response – only to stop, when he notices Janna swivel her chair, leaving her computer screen alive and blinking.

"John Doe basically… told Ferguson to go to Quest Buy."

Janna raises an eyebrow. "And he's too stupid to acknowledge it's a trap?"

Marco laughs, resulting in Janna earning a jealous glance from Star.

"Well, Ferguson's not really one to shy away from danger. Let him come, I guess."

"Er… we don't know when we're going."

"When do you want to sort out John Doe?"

"Don't ask me – I don't have the dimensional scissors, remember?" He smirks.

Janna resists the urge to roll her eyes, turning to face Star.

For a brief moment, Star glares, before glancing anxiously at Marco. There seemed to be fear glowing in her eyes, illuminating them as if they were tears. But what could Star possibly fear?

Marco? Her

Or perhaps making her own decisions.

Janna snaps her head up from the thought, as Star's voice returns.

"How's tomorrow sound for you?"

She knows the decision isn't Star's to begin with, but plays along with Marco's sick game. The glee in his eyes is enough to make her heave, though a small, small part of her almost feels impressed by his control.

"It is fine." Her tone has switched from off-guard to robotic.

"I'm glad you think so."

It seems Marco hasn't picked up on how tense the two are, even when Star openly frowns at Janna. Or perhaps he has – maybe he was playing another game with the two of them. She pressed her lips together, hoping they'd show themselves out.

"We'll be leaving shortly – I just need to use your facilities." Marco announces, his gaze shifting from Janna to Star. Both of them smile, though their eyes don't light up and they're straining their lips.

"Piss, you mean?" Janna asks.

Star smiles, but not in spite of herself – Janna can still sense the stone interior, and nearly shivers at the thought of it. Though, maybe it could be fun to play with Star and Marco.

"That's a less polite way of putting it." He says, walking out of her bedroom – leaving her and Star to stare at each other for a couple of minutes. She's pretty sure he's playing both of them – he'd probably go stand out in the garden or something.

More time passes, and they're still staring at each other. Neither of them dare to speak, or show any emotion – it's weakness, pure weakness if they do.

Star finally cracks.

"When we go to Quest Buy, you stand with Ferguson and Alfonzo. Don't go near Marco or I will hurt you. Badly." The voice is completely unrecognisable by this point, enough to make Janna stumble slightly as Star pushes some of her hair out of her eyes.

When she regains her balance, her eyes narrow, piercing into Star's.

"You'll hurt me?" Janna licks her lips, but Star doesn't appear to notice.

"You know I like him."

"Yes. It is rather obvious."

"Then leave him to me."

"He's not a piece of meat, Star. Maybe he likes me-"

She didn't expect it, and it showed when she jerked, and her mouth opened.

It was a strike to the face – so hard that for a moment, she saw stars. Everything was just stars and pain, with brief flashes of Star's stern expression, before she finally felt it.

And in seconds, her jaw broke – then it forced itself back into place and time sped up to a normal pace.

The slap was hard enough for her to still feel the sting clinging to her face. Her hand immediately sprung up in an attempt to nurse it, but she thought better of it, gritting her teeth to prevent herself from bursting into tears.

"He doesn't like you, you whore. He's doing this to get rid of John Doe. Nobody involved in this plan gives a damn about you."

More words tumble out of Star, and Janna discovers herself at a loss for words, even when Star falls silent.

Marco finally returns, standing in the door with an unbalanced look on his face.

Janna can't detect whether he heard Star or not, but smiles and dams her tears.

"Right then, Star. I suppose we should be leaving."

She hooks a hand through his own, and they entwine their fingers. Janna inspects Star's body language, before shifting her gaze to Marco's. It was too vague, too narrow for her to pass any judgements.

They leave.

And Janna sees them out of the front door.

In relief, Janna slams the front door shut, slumping against it. A howl fills the corridor, prompting her mother to poke her head out the kitchen, seeing her daughter clutching her reddened face with wet eyes.

Janna quickly discovered that the howl had escaped her – and as she trembled, she also realised another thing:

She was powerless to stop it.


	13. Brown Eyes

**Overview: Janna, Marco, Ferguson, Alfonzo and Star visit Quest Buy. Marco eventually realises what's going on between Janna and Star, as Ferguson & Alfonzo take a detour.**

* * *

To: Marco  
From: Ferguson

I'm on my way to your house. Is Janna there or are we going to wait?

P.S. Alfonzo's with me, atm.

…

To: Ferguson  
From: Marco

Janna's already here. She's waiting for you – you're late, genius.

* * *

 **Alfonzo**

The coldness in Marco's eyes seemed to fade as he beckoned both Ferguson and himself in. They stopped by the door, awkwardly hovering as Star hurtled down the stairs, with half a boot affixed to her foot.

"Ah- I'm late, sorry."

Marco didn't frown, but instead, his eyes softened even more as they fell upon Star. Alfonzo turned away from Star, who was lacing up her boots, back to the open door as he pondered the idea of dashing out of it.

Then he remembered Ferguson, tottering on his small, squat legs after him. And it quickly changed to that of Brittney being taken out of the party on a stretcher… in an ambulance. Alfonzo pressed his lips together, but suspiciously eyed Star.

"Right then. Lead the way."

Alfonzo felt himself fall closer to Ferguson subconsciously, as Janna closed the circle and they all connected their hands. After a few seconds, a large, rectangular shape imprinted the picture of Quest Buy into the Diaz's household.

None of them oohed or aahed, immediately stepping in so the portal could seal behind them. Star smiled, waving and gesturing with her arms, but Alfonzo was blotting out most of her speech, his eyes rocking up and down.

"What do you want, then?" Marco asked Janna, in probably one of the worst whisper voices Alfonzo had ever heard. He leaned slightly closer to them, dragging Ferguson with him, who seemed to be digging his heels.

 _Listen!_ He wanted to hiss, but roughly tugged at Ferguson again, catching snippets of their drifting conversation.

"…wand. Star's… doesn't like…"

"…can't blame her. What do… want?"

"…I'll know it when I see it."

When he wasn't listening into their conversations, his eyes swept down, meeting Star's. There was nothing more than hate in them, burning and beginning to ruin the brilliant blue they once were. Her skin was paler too, stretched and taut, like a doll's.

It was strange, yet alluring. He turned away but cocked his ears, in an attempt to reinsert himself into the conversation.

Suddenly, Ferguson pulled back, reeling Alfonzo in like a fish, as they slipped down an aisle. He tried to catch Ferguson's attention, but it was much too late – the duo was still walking, with Star looking sullen as ever.

Then it sunk in. Star was jealous.

Green with envy.

It was enough to make him laugh – she couldn't be serious about Marco, with his weirdly dead eyes and hair – that was becoming rougher with each day – if you put aside his personality. That was on a whole new level.

Alfonzo swallowed the guilt, trying to remind himself Marco was his friend. But it was quite difficult, and he rapidly abandoned the thought. He sneaks a look at Ferguson, who was fingering one of the skeleton masks.

"How much is it?" He asks, pushing the thought of them being isolated from the rest of the group out of his mind.

"I can't read the language," he explains, grabbing the mask, and pushing it down, over his head.

Ferguson dropped like a fly, kicking about on the floor and declaring that he _couldn't breathe_ , still squirming as Alfonzo froze.

"What the-"

"I can't- it's-" With new strength, Ferguson wrenched it from his face.

The words were cut off as the mask fell to the side, and Ferguson grabbed Alfonzo, knocking him to the floor, as they lay side by side. Alfonzo warily watched the mask, which refused to move by itself for a few moments.

Neatly, it lifted itself into the air, bouncing perhaps once or twice, before landing onto the shelf in the same position as before. He sprawled out on the ground, checking Ferguson for injuries with his nearest hand.

"Are you alright?"

"The real question is – are you? You're so gullible!" Ferguson cackled, leaping up from the floor. Something about the fact he didn't help him up made Alfonzo yelp in anger– however, he numbed the feeling, pulling himself up.

Funny. It was hilarious – so why wasn't he laughing? A small noise came out of him – but it was more like a furious, aggressive bark – too short to be a laugh. So he shut his mouth and faked a smile, looking Ferguson in the eye.

"Shit. Where's the trio?" Ferguson suddenly questions, dusting himself off, frantically searching from left to right.

A tiny voice in Alfonzo's head smugly mutters, before being drowned out by various others.

 ** _I told you soItoldyousoshouldhavelistenedItoldusotolduwhatdiditellutotallytoldyouI TOLD YOU WHY DIDN'T YOU LISTEN TO MEALFONZOISALWAYSWRONGSODO NOTLISTENTOHIMHEIFULLOFSHITITOLDYOUSOITOLDYOUSOSHOULDHAVELISTENEDITOLDYOUSOITOLDYOUSOhesnotfullofshithesjustwronglike80percentofthetiMEAMILATETOTHEPARTY NowerejusttellingfergwhyyouaretheworstfriendEVER?_**

 _Stop. Stop!_

The voices don't clear, of course, but continue rambling about nonsense in his mind.

"I tried-"

"Shit!" Ferguson cries again, prompting Alfonzo to finish speaking and turn to see more of the skeleton heads vibrating on the shelves. Ferguson backs away, his eyes anxiously boggling and swiping over the skulls.

Just below the skulls are the masks Ferguson was in, seconds ago. But they remain stationary.

"The hell?" Alfonzo gasps, as one of the skulls collapses, pitching forward. A second follows, and soon they all appear to be making a leap to their doom – a suicidal leap.

"They broke themselves." Ferguson tells him, as if he can't see that.

Alfonzo resists the voice telling him to roll his eyes and shout at him, turning back to nod in agreement. Both of them were still frozen still, until the skulls began to hop after them in a straight line, one after the other.

Neither of them waste any more time – both of them are on their feet, sprinting away, not even daring to look back and see if the skulls are catching up. Ferguson lags behind Alfonzo, naturally, stopping for a few seconds.

"Hurry up!" Alfonzo begs, still sprinting as far away from the shelves as possible – Ferguson shakes his head, drawing a few breaths and gathering all the courage he has. They had to find the trio and get to safety – they had to-

Quest Buy was completely disorganised. Various items were littered around the ground, proving to be obstacles that he had to hop over in order to reach what appeared to be a black door.

The door was closer by this point.

His hands hungrily descended upon the doorknob, and he twisted it desperately, launching himself through the door, until Ferguson suddenly crossed his mind. He had to be behind him – Alfonzo turns back to the door, checking his surroundings.

There were a few shopkeepers milling about, and people pushing trolleys with magic, or manually. Still, there was no sign of Star, Marco, or even Janna.

More things were on the floor, including suspicious black puddles and… vending machines? They probably sold the weirdest things – besides, he had no money to buy _anything_. If it was anything like Pixtopia, that was.

Pixtopia caused a pang of guilt, as he remembered his wife. The woman he'd intended to visit, yet- he was going off point. Ferguson – where the hell had he gone?

Alfonzo reaches for the doorknob, deciding he could at least _try_ to open the door – and surely enough, the door came loose off its hinges, falling on top of him. As he squirmed under the door, Ferguson streamed through it, whilst screeching in pain.

He was covered in skulls, all of them biting into his flesh, or somehow connecting themselves to him. Ferguson didn't even stop to realise he'd crushed his friend under the door, stomping over the wood and trampling Alfonzo.

No sound could escape him – except quiet whining, that Ferguson couldn't hear above his own screams. The shelves toppled and fell, spilling buckets and containers onto the ground, as Ferguson continued dancing about.

Alfonzo consulted the door, attempting to push it up – but the strength was drained from him. It had lifted a few inches, before slamming back into his stomach.

He grunted, clearing his throat.

"Ferguson." He practised, at first, attempting to raise his voice.

"Ferguson!" It became an exclamation he couldn't hear.

Licking his lips, trying to hydrate the cracked things, he threw his head back, resting it against the cold floor, and shouted Ferguson's name again.


	14. Naughty Girls With Good Manners

**Sabrina**

The walk home had been silent, and a small part of Sabrina savoured it. Liberty, however, grumbled within her and whispered that they should abandon Brittney, accept the punishment and shift all the scales.

Sabrina shook her head in disagreement, relieved that Brittney barely glanced in her direction. When she did look up, all she saw was a tight tug of the shawl – reassurance that Brittney had no intent to converse with her.

She quietly murmured to Liberty, who ignored her desperate pleas for Brittney's safety. Eventually, Brittney stopped – and Sabrina crashed into her – before she could stop it, a few curse words slipped from her tongue.

In surprise, Brittney blinked at her – and Liberty glowered for a split second. The glare was only present for a moment, before Brittney beat hers completely – Liberty was about to make a gesture, but Sabrina told her to stop.

They had reached the large gates of Brittney's house – at which Brittney was staring uneasily. She shook her head slowly, and Liberty bit her lip. How exactly was Sabrina equipped to deal with this sort of problem?

* * *

 **Marco**

Something seemed awfully amusing about Star and Janna. Apart from being surrounded by two girls, he liked the idea of them silently fighting over him – but kept all emotions low, setting his lips in a straight line of grim determination.

"Star," Janna began, gesturing to a large stone pillar with a random language scrawled across it, "Could you possibly translate this?"

A small growl escaped her pursed lips, and Marco once again had to glare and growl slightly louder, which immediately made Star stop. The growling was replaced by stiff, awkward dialogue, which made Marco smile at the ground.

There was a brief pause, where Star bit her lip and gently pressed a finger, then two against the stone. Her eyes never flickered or changed, remaining in that emotionless glaze, as she pulled her fingers away.

"Energised magical property."

"And what exactly are you looking for, Janna?" His tone came out more accusing that he had intended.

Yet she didn't miss a beat, smiling to herself.

"Ferguson and Alfonzo are gone."

"Don't change the sub- what?" Marco snaps, folding his arms – Star draws herself away from the stone pillar, floating back to his side, causing Janna to narrow her eyes slightly.

So two girls were _definitely_ fighting over him. Interesting.

Still, that could wait – Ferguson and Alfonzo were missing – not that it shocked Marco or anything.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me. How the hell did they get lost? We were walking in a _group_!"

Star's fingertips fall upon him before he can push her away, and her thumbs seem to work magic upon his tensed up muscles, as he unclenches slightly. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Janna staring in curiosity, but also disbelief.

She doesn't interrupt them, luckily, for the part where Star traces large shapes on his back. He sighs lightly, though Ferguson and Alfonzo are still dizzily dancing the night away in his mind – to the point where he wants to scream.

The scream remains within him, slowly waning.

Her hands are pinned back to her sides, and Janna cocks up an eyebrow. However, she doesn't utter a single word, continuing to stare at them both. This was probably one of the first relationships that she couldn't screw over.

A triumphant smile plays at his lips, but Star's is superior in every form. It's one of the first times he's seen her smile, even when she's in her doll form. Marco says nothing, but his eyes are focussed on her lips.

Soft. Very soft. Maybe they would-

"Ferguson and Alfonzo." Janna says calmly, causing Marco to blink.

He didn't feel impressed – but kept his cool, turning to look at her. She simply wouldn't wipe that disgustingly smug smirk off her face. The smile stayed on Star's face, but his was long gone.

"What about them?" As he spoke, she relaxed, slumping on one of the walls. Then she checked her nails in one of the least discreet ways possible – it simply wasn't enough to provoke him. After a minute or two, he repeated himself.

"What about them?" His teeth were gritted though, this time.

"Oh. Well…" She fluttered her eyelashes, but Marco saw through the illusion of innocence. "They're gone. I do wonder where they could've gotten to."

Star piped up at this point, her voice small and timid – interestingly, he saw fire burning in her eyes. And the marks on her cheeks were darker hearts that appeared to have jagged lines forming in the sides and edges.

Broken hearts.

"It's simple. We ask the attendants if they've seen them. Their absence isn't a problem." Marco pressed his lips together as she spoke, daring to cast an arrogant smile at Janna.

"And where exactly _are_ the attendants?" Janna seemed to be enjoying herself.

" _That's_ the problem…" Star trailed off, frowning at her.

Marco held in the glare, and looked over at both Star and Janna.

"Fine, then. We're going to find an attendant, describe them both, and you two… you two are going to resist trying to one-up each other every five seconds." He, like Janna, enjoyed the thought of controlling them both.

She raised an eyebrow, then shook her head. "No, look. I told you I'm going to hack JD, but _only_ if I get what I want."

It was Star's turn to huff, as Marco was already briskly picking up pace and walking.

Both of them knew that they had to keep up, before he lost his temper – and both took off rapidly, as if there were rockets on their shoes.

For at least thirty minutes, they'd trudged through the entirety of Quest Buy, when they fell upon a variety of potions, skulls, and ogre's toes. Stopping, Star leaned on one of the jars of pickled ogre toe – catching her breath.

Marco frowned, muttering under his breath, as Janna fingered the potions, a small smile showing up on her face. She kept going through them, before nodding at Marco, who rolled his eyes, and continued muttering.

"What currency do they use here?" Janna asked.

Star ignored her, continuing to inhale and exhale deeply. Finally, she loosened herself from the jars and glanced at Marco, twitching her lips, as if to ask for permission to speak. He nodded at her, still murmuring.

"Jewels." As soon as she spoke, her lips joined together – refusing to let any more words out.

As if on cue, Marco finally talked to them both.

"Star, can your magic summon attendants?"

At the sound of his voice, she blushed slightly and then nodded. "I… well, I think so."

"Then do-"

His voice was cut off by the sound of an explosion – which threw them all back, sending them through various shelves. Sounds of smashing glass filled the air, and new gashes opened up on Marco's skin.

Star toppled over three shelves, lying in a mess of books, potions and biting skulls. There was nothing – she lay there blankly, too numb to feel the pain engulfing her, as one skull sunk their teeth into her leg.

Janna, however, screamed bloody murder – there was a huge sore sitting on her arm, leaking blood all over her clothes and the ground. She clutched it in the hope it would stop, only to be drowned in hopelessness as she caught sight of rising smoke.

The explosion had only been the beginning.


	15. Quest Buy's Death Cargo

**Overview: As everyone attempts to escape Quest Buy, Janna starts to unravel Marco's complex feelings towards Star. John Doe discusses current events and plans with Ludo.**

* * *

 **Janna**

She was no longer dazed, and leapt to her feet, coughing in the hope she wouldn't inhale too much smoke. The smoke continued rising, trying to occupy all the space in the shop.

"Marco? Star?" Janna was met with no reply, and kicked over a few shelves to gather a clear view of the aisles beyond her. For all she knew, the duo might have disappeared together. Or at least, she assumed that when she noticed Marco stood by Star, who lay there motionlessly.

Oh God. A hand flew to her mouth, though she knew no words would come out. Slowly, she approached what they both presumed to be a corpse, only for Marco to snarl and growl protectively at her.

His eyes were glowing with fear, though, as he tenderly shook Star, begging her to stand up. A sad smile spread across Janna's face, which diminished at the sight of the fire spreading. The paper books had caught fire with ease.

Coughing violently, she called out Marco's name. Their group wasn't full - and something felt wrong about leaving Alfonzo and Ferguson to die.

"Marco! We still don't know where Alfonzo and Ferguson are!" She had to yell this time, as some fire alarms had gone off, though it seemed to be no use. Marco continued shaking Star, also trying to stop her bleeding.

"I have to save her." He whispered, still pressing on her chest. Janna resisted the urge to yank him away from her, hopping from foot to foot. There was no way he'd save her here. They'd all die, be consumed by the flames.

"Carry her. We can't… you can't save her here… we need an actual paramedic." He seemed to understand her babbling speech, and scooped the girl up. Janna looked away as she limply flopped in his arms.

Because she was sure that Star couldn't be dead already.

"Get low. You don't want to choke."

She was crawling, but he was crouching, shuffling forward. They heard another explosion, except the sound was much fainter. However, the shrill screams that followed suit were incredibly loud. It was kind of impossible not to focus on them.

They kept wading through seas of books, skulls and assorted items. There were potions too, which seemed good enough for Janna. She swiped one from a shelf that was still standing, cradling it like a child as she kept pushing herself forward.

They continued through Quest Buy, finding that they were completely alone. Still moving, Janna stopped, prompting Marco to hit her, and cry out in alarm. She pressed a finger to her lips, because she was sure…

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

Besides Star's wheezing, she swore she'd heard someone shout "Ferguson!" but couldn't identify the direction the sound came from.

"Listen closely…"

The voice came again, probably from behind them. She bit her lip – they had just crawled _away_ from the danger zone. Surely, there was no logical reason to go back to them? Janna tried to think, her head splitting.

Suddenly, she had the worst headache ever. They could try to save them – and likely die in the process – or leave their two best friends to die, and feel guilty about it for the rest of their lives. Janna sighed.

"We have to go back."

"No...! You said it yourself, Star needs help. She needs help, so we can save her-"

"Your best friends are in there. They're going to die. Are you seriously going to let them die?"

A scowl distorted Marco's entire face, as he looked down at the girl in his arms, sighing. She was still wheezing, twitching a little in his arms. Perhaps she'd faint from blood loss… Janna had no idea how long they'd been in Quest Buy, or how long she had been lying, terrified by her injuries.

"They are not my friends. It would do me good if they died…but… Star likes them."

Janna smirked at the sound of the inner conflict, and decided to exercise Star's influence further.

"If she doesn't make it, at least save the two people she cared about. C'mon, Marco…" Her eyes widened, sparkling with what appeared to be tears.

He glared, the frown darkening his brown eyes. Janna grinned, and sprinted in the other direction, forcing him to try and catch up.

* * *

 **Ferguson**

Still screaming, he managed to flick a few more skulls off. He collapsed, and proceeded to roll. The remaining skulls were sent in all directions, unable to latch back onto him. Ferguson exhaled in relief.

"Alfonzo?" He heard a muffled scream in reply, and scanned the grounds, before his eyes met the black door his friend was trapped underneath.

Both of them used as much force as they could to heave the door off of him. And as soon as the door toppled to the side, hitting the ground with a hard thud and sending splinters everywhere, Ferguson ducked down, lingering near Alfonzo.

Wrapped his arms around him and enveloped him in a tight, warm embrace. For a few seconds, he thought he smelled the salt of tears, mixed in with the scent of smoke. He sniffed again in order to check.

It was.

"We need to-"

He was interrupted by Alfonzo striking him across the face. They both stood there, Ferguson perplexed, Alfonzo seeing red for a few seconds. However, the mood changed back to overwhelming trepidation at the smell of smoke.

"I'm not… I deserved that. We need to find Star, Marco and Janna."

Alfonzo looked like he was holding in the urge to roll his eyes, and managed a nod. Immediately, they both ran through the doors, noticing that everything smelled awful, and had been scorched until they were black.

The floor had been ruined too. It was once a nice green, but now was an ugly deep green, mixed in with splotches of black and brown. Ferguson stepped over one section of rotting floorboard, holding in his disgust.

On instinct, a hand flew to his nose to shield it from the pungent odour filling his nostrils. The duo had reached broken shelves, and skidded over mysterious puddles of goo, skittering over shards of broken glass.

In that moment, they had run into the trio. Or at least, what they presumed to be the trio – it seemed to be a duo now. Janna met them with her eyes firstly, Marco clutching Star desperately, his eyes dimming with sadness.

"Janna!" Ferguson threw his arms out, and Alfonzo stormily glanced at them all, appearing to be the only one who wasn't pleased with the reunion. Naturally, Janna stepped away, denying the hug, and gestured behind her.

"No time for hugs. We've got to get the hell out of here."

"I can see that," Alfonzo commented from behind her, pointing at Star, outstretched in Marco's arms. With that, they all turned on their heels, no more words or greetings upon their lips – and headed for the exit.

Perhaps they had been running for fifteen minutes, when Ferguson had a thought. A thought that he was sure they would all describe as a "good point."

"Y'know, this is useless, right? The GIRL who led us here, and knows the way out is fucking _unconscious_. And she's got the dimensional scissors." He snapped, slowing down slightly in order to catch his breath – his words bared their teeth at Marco.

In turn, he snarled, carefully setting Star's body onto the ground. She lay there peacefully, with her lips turned in what appeared to be a smile. Almost as if she were conscious – Ferguson spent no more time assessing her, as Marco took steps closer to him.

He retreated, noting that both Alfonzo and Janna had disappeared down another block of corridors. They had heard him complain, but had chosen to lodge no complaint against it, or even scold him for whining in such a dire situation.

Instead, he was in the middle of a face-off with an enraged Marco.

Ferguson finally noticed that his thick, heavy-set body was no match for someone with a green belt in karate. Yet, he refused to resign to his fate, and instead moved closer to Star, closing in on her and circling her.

A growl escaped from Marco's pursed lips, and before Ferguson could drop back from the body, Marco was on him in a flurry of nails, biting, kicking and screaming. Wild fighting – he felt Marco's nails clip his arms, and hissed in pain as a thread of blood appeared.

Trails of blood followed, and soon the colours blended and blurred, as if Ferguson had slipped into a painting. He was kicking, biting, tangled with Marco in a mess of screams and the quiet whimpers from Star.

They seemed to entwine in a close embrace, before Marco's hand shot out, reaching for a shard of glass from the broken jars on the ground. Ferguson squirmed and kicked, panicking when he realised he was not in an embrace, but a clinch.

However, it was too late for him as the glass pricked his neck. He lay still, not dead, but aware he would be soon. Glazed eyes stared up at his former friend, but he never opened his mouth to speak – his eyes were a much more powerful weapon than his words.

Yet, with this evil being stood before him, there was no effect. Marco exhaled deeply, and after his sighs came light whimpers and groans from Star, who seemed groggy. Ferguson stayed where he was, glassily staring upwards.

With the same blood-stained glass shard, Marco brought it down – and plunged it into his chest. A jerk, a simple twitch was all that betrayed his otherwise stationary body. A spasm effect rippled across his body, before he fell still.

* * *

 **Marco**

At the sight of the corpse laying at his feet, he burst into hysterical laughter. That was it, then – the main threat in his plan to unleash chaos upon the town was gone. Ferguson was a hollow of a person. In fact, he was no longer a person.

Marco's feet hit the corpse, which flew forward, hitting another set of shelves. He turned, satisfied with his work, dropping the glass shard to the ground, as Star continued to mumble and make slightly coherent sounds.

His hands were soft and tender upon her cheeks, but not as gentle as the way he spoke. His eyes were no longer cold, but locked onto her bright blue ones with determination.

"It's okay," he cooed, "he can't hurt us now." And for the first time in what felt like years, fresh tears sprang from his eyes, hitting Star's face. It felt amazing to cry – as all his emotions blended into one another.

Marco made sure to carefully remove the dimensional scissors from her belt.

Then he gently picked her up, and sped off to find Alfonzo and Janna.

* * *

 **Ludo**

"You're late." Ludo snarled at the shadow, who in turn smirked at his anger. It didn't bring anymore anger to his face – after all, John Doe thrived off his anger.

The shadow became visible, and he made out their face. There was nothing that seemed particularly distinct about it – though he couldn't help but note their impeccable posture.

"My sincerest apologies, m' _lord_." The apology was in no way sincere – he could read the insult within the formality.

"Anyway, we ought to get down to business. I've heard you have some… well… _issues_ with Princess Star, of house Butterfly?" John Doe continued speaking.

"I have. Go on." Ludo replied.

"There is a place where she and her friend may be moulded to do our bidding. They could be turned into killing machines… however, torching Quest Buy simply isn't enough for this."

"What exactly are you implying, then?"

"There are a number of ways to go about this. If their parents were to be informed of their crimes, they'd be sent to me in a heartbeat. The problem is-"

"If there is a problem with this solution, I don't want to hear it."

A scowl crosses John's face, but their expression quickly returned to neutral.

"The problem is that they won't feel enough pain… which is why I suggest that their friends should be brought into the picture. The duo struggle enough with their bloodlust… and hiding it from friends."

"And how exactly will we convince their friends to join us?"

"It is astounding how I come up with _all_ the ideas…"

Ludo held a hand up, as if to weakly silence them. However, he saw defiance shine in their eyes, mixed with what appeared to be hatred.

"Speak."

A smile didn't play at their lips again, but rather, their lips faded into a grim, straight line.

"It is simple. We steal them – you may think of it as depraved… but the children will be looked after well, and they will be valuable to us."

Ludo's hands came together, bound in a tight lock. His fingertips pressed against each other, and a cruel smile crossed his face. For a moment, they were sure they saw delight in their partner's eyes.

"What you're suggesting," he began, "is excellent. However, for such a thing to happen, we'll need to contact a third party."

"Of course."

They were on the same page, and for once, the two exchanged a smile. An ironic, cynical one.

* * *

 ***Throws a "dead Ferguson" grenade and gets the hell out of there***


	16. Seeking Criticism & Company

**Dear Star:  
Every day that you want to waste, or change, you can.  
I'll help you see it through.  
You know why?  
'Cause I just really wanna be with you.**

 **\- Marco**

 **Weirdly… long chapter. Erm, I thought there could be a bit of humour (or at least what I class as humour) so this story isn't just… spooky. So, yeah. Situational comedy. Yuk it up, everyone!**

* * *

 **Marco**

At least two days had passed, and Marco had never left Star's side as she recovered from the fire. Sometimes, a pale limb would thrash out in fright and she would scream names – Ferguson, Alfonzo, Father and Axel.

His name was never amongst them. Despite this, he would cuddle her and whisper sweet words into her hair. If she was unconscious, he would play with her hair and smile at the sleeping beauty. Marvel at her bright eyes, her soft, porcelain skin…

Yet the sleeping beauty belonged to him, and him only. When his parents attempted to enter, they were met with a magical padlock on the doors. In fact, he was so dedicated to his sweetheart that he hadn't eaten for the two days she had been unconscious.

Instead, he had consoled her when she screamed, shaking and crying. If she was asleep, he would be awake, rarely sleeping _with_ her. Even as they had gained closeness, he'd come to the conclusion she viewed him as a friend (and a friend only), in the broadest terms of the word.

Still, the thought of murdering his former best friend continued to weigh on his mind. As Star slept, one night, he informed her of his crimes, hands running through her blonde locks. Of course, he wasn't proud of his murder.

It had been sloppy, sadistic, and rather slow. Not efficient, not quick – if he wanted to wreak havoc on Echo Creek, he had to learn to be silent. Something he had told Star, they couldn't learn in Echo Creek. Soon, both of them would need to leave.

Naturally, she had not replied as he explained everything. How amazing it felt to kill his friend, then the fleeting moments of hollow emptiness as he realised how easy it had been to dispose of the evidence.

Providing Ferguson's corpse hadn't been ruined, the glass shard used to carry out the deed likely had been. There was very little evidence suggesting he had done anything. Yet he wanted someone to know of his crimes.

It felt like he was boasting about what he had done. And although he didn't see his actions as particularly good, they seemed slightly justified, in the sense that he was protecting a girl he'd grown to love.

But suddenly, he was up on his feet and abandoning her.

Before actually leaving, he made sure the spell stayed intact, and reached for behind his bedroom door.

He was drifting away from his original personality – he hadn't told his parents that he was leaving the house, but simply continued walking until he was out of the door.

Star slept soundly, with the magical padlock still on her door. Marco, meanwhile, stared at everything outside. There were large trees, casting small shadows in front of them. Buildings towered over them, occupying the background.

He stared in a mixture of awe and confusion. How long had he _really_ been with Star? Sunlight glistened through two trees, shining on him – not quite directly – but enough to make him cringe. Despite this, he kept walking, in the direction of Janna's house.

* * *

 **Janna**

A knock hit her door, and she peered out of her window. Interestingly enough, she saw Marco stood outside, hands in his pockets. Originally, there was a smile on her face – until she noticed Star's absence.

Whether he was coming to kill her – along with Alfonzo – she had no idea. Something told her not to open the door for him – instead, she turned away from the window and pulled her blinds shut. Still, she heard him rapping on the door.

Running downstairs, to the garden, she noticed the cars parked in front of the double garage. Janna cursed, rolling her eyes, before reaching for a pair of boots lying on the mat. Once they were on her feet, she moved towards the kitchen.

And neatly plucked a blade out of the drawer, slamming it shut. She went on to conceal the blade on her person, painting on a sweet, smiley face – she had to at least look like she was pleased to be graced by his presence.

Janna opened the door, and Marco twitched slightly.

One of the most notable features of Marco was his eyes. But now, they were his lips. His lips were upturned in a grisly smile. There were types of smiles – and the one Marco wore was that of a psychopathic killer.

The crazy smile.

At that moment, Janna wished she could close the door, but the twitching, grinning boy was already in her home, shrugging off his coat and removing his shoes. Smart shoes, unbuttoned jacket with a few missing buttons.

Her hand twitched, and she gripped the blade tightly, before closing the door.

"I have something to tell you."

 _I'm sure you do._

Janna kept her expression as neutral as possible, nodding. "Mm." She led him into their sitting room, as there were a set of doors for her to escape through if he attacked her. And of course, open windows for her to climb through.

She walked to the doors, closing them behind her. She decided not to invite him to sit next to her, but folded her hands neatly in her lap, looking up at him.

"Well?" She asks.

The grin stretched, almost reaching his ears.

"Take off your clothes."

She spluttered with laughter at his words, laughing so hard to the point she felt tears prick her eyes. When she had wiped the last of her tears away, flooded with overwhelming joy, she stopped, noticing that he wasn't laughing.

So he genuinely thought…

What, did he think she was a slut? A slut, like Brittney?

"If you're here to get some, look somewhere else. Like, y'know, Brittney's house."

He shuddered at the thought of it, and Janna couldn't help but feel a twinge of offense. What, did he find her sexually repulsive? Janna quite liked to think she had a fair amount of sex appeal, along with natural feminine charm.

But perhaps it didn't work on everyone.

"I don't want that at all. I have something critical to tell you, and I have to make sure you aren't wearing a wire…"

"…I'm not…"

"Then take off your clothes."

"Is this something to do with the investigation into Ferguson's abduction? If you know something about it, don't tell me-"

She was snapping at him, but was suddenly interrupted. He was touching her. Making physical contact… and it felt wrong. Even though the touch was on her foot – trying to pull her boots off her body – it still felt wrong.

"I'm not stripping down in front of you."

"You're wearing a wire, aren't you?"

Gently, in order not to provoke him, she gave him a small push. He stepped away slightly, moving out of her push. Her boot hit the ground with a quiet clatter, and she proceeded to yank the other one off.

"No… I just don't want you to see me naked."

He took another step forward, and she shuffled back, grip on her blade. _Get back_. The words didn't leave her lips, but the blade was out in her hand, viciously cutting at the air. A small smirk appeared on his face, much to her horror.

"G…et back." Her voice strayed, losing itself between two words.

She finally heard him laugh.

Except, the laugh was tasteless – there was no feeling in it. It seemed to come out of his mouth to envelope the silence that was slowly consuming the both of them. Still, she kept the blade up.

He rolled his eyes, and in one move, the blade hit the ground, falling from her hands.

"I forgot you were a green belt…" Janna trailed off, eyes still on the blade. He moved back, logically, scooping the blade up from the ground, pointing it at Janna. She noticed his hand shaking, but the smile stayed on his face.

She considered screaming for help for all but two seconds. Her parents, even if they heard her, would likely be overpowered, or he would murder her and escape. After all, he had the weapon – the evidence – and there were two escape routes.

If only she hadn't opened the door…

The flat of the blade pressed against her dress, embracing her skin with its cold, metallic kiss. Marco smirked, dragging the blade down. Janna didn't dare move, though her face burned as her breasts spilled out of the broken dress.

 _He ruined one of my favourite dresses._

To her relief, he didn't look even mildly aroused, pocketing the blade, eyes moving up and down. His eyes remained blank, but he pursed his lips.

"Do I need to do the rest, or will you?"

She bit her lip, and slid out of her dress and underwear, standing naked in front of him.

A cruel smile twisted his face into an unrecognisable mask.

He turned his finger in the air, a gesture to convince her to spin around, so he could see all of her.

"Was that so hard? Now your dress is ruined." He frowned, but his tone was ice, and his face was carved from stone. It was mock-pity for the girl who had failed to listen to his commands. She shivered slightly.

"There – see. No wire." Her arms were folded, in order to cover up her chest.

"Are you perfectly comfortable being stood in front of me naked, whilst I tell a story?"

"…well, no, but… you've got the knife, so…"

"Mm. I do, indeed, Janna. Take a seat."

 _Crazy… insane… psychopathic…_

She took heed of his instructions, though her eyes remained on the knife, flitting back and forth from him to the weapon in his pocket. It was just out of her sight, but she was sure she could grab it without him noticing.

After all, she stole his house keys once.

"Ferguson…" he paused, fingering his pocket to play with the knife, "…poor Ferguson. I pity ever even _letting_ him touch her."

An eyebrow of Janna's rose, but she kept her lips together, convincing herself not to make a comment that would potentially irritate him. It was bad enough that she was quivering in front of him, naked.

"I should never have let him so much as approach her. She'd never forgive me for it… but I thought… if I killed… maybe, just maybe, she'd forgive me." He seemed to be muttering to himself – yet loud enough for her to hear.

"She? You mean, Star?"

"Who else could I mean?" He roared in that moment, causing her to flinch. The knife fell from his pocket in the fast movement, hitting the ground. Before she had so much as twitched, he ducked down, picking it up.

Now he held the weapon in his hands, running his fingers over it.

"You could end up just like him." He was in a trance, barely noticing when he almost pricked his finger on the tip of the knife.

"Ferguson… touched… Star? Marco, you're not making sense."

"It didn't make sense." His tone had gone from angry to calm, cold, and somewhat distanced. Another quiver passed her as she realised how severe the mood swing had been, but she kept her mouth shut.

"I wanted her to myself. And he laid a finger on her pure, porcelain skin… so I had to get rid of him."

 _Please tell me it's not what I think it is._

"You killed him." She finished his sentence, exhaling deeply. "Even though Star loves you with all her heart… you killed… your best friend."

Simultaneously, they both laughed. Janna's laugh had more emotion, however, than Marco's, whose laugh clearly didn't stem from amusement. He grinned, nodding at her – so he thought she was trustworthy.

That she wouldn't tell anyone else.

"Why the hell are you telling me this?"

"You can tell Alfonzo. It doesn't matter. I'll kill him too, if I have to keep his mouth shut."

"…All this shit, for a _girl_? What did you… how did you kill him?"

He wiped tears of laughter – the way she had earlier – from his eyes, the smile lighting up his face. Except for his eyes, that dimmed with disinterest in the topic at hand.

"I pushed him into the flames. He was screaming, begging me not to kill him… but it was just… so fucking funny. He got onto his knees, pleading. And then from the heavens… judgement comes, down in a pillar of flame."

 _It hasn't come for you yet._

"So he's burning, in Quest Buy. In fact, his corpse was probably preserved, so it could be eaten by Alfonzo's wife. I wish I'd taken something to remember it. But now that I think about, although he was a large boy, not much of him would be left."

He cackled with laughter, and Janna tittered, awkwardly joining in.

"Where's Star? Have you told her any of this?"

"Of course I have!" He seemed slightly defensive.

"Right… let me guess, she helped you knock him out and leave him in the flames."

"N-no! He was alive and kicking when I pushed him in. I could still hear him screaming, as I picked up Star and ran off. I laughed my ass off."

"Did she? I mean, when you told her."

He looked at her, in a searching way, then scanned the entire sitting room, eyes suddenly urgent. His suspicious glance came back to her, and Janna's heart sank as she realised she'd asked way too many questions.

"There are bugs here, aren't there?"

"…no."

Swiftly, he bounced towards her, and held the knife against her throat, an arm resting on one of her naked legs. She tried not to shake in his grasp, thinking about her parents, her friends, school, anything _but_ this situation.

"Answer me, truthfully, _bitch_. Are there bugs here or not?"

"…N-no!"

He tossed the knife at their television, and both watched as it hit the screen. The screen seemed fine, though Janna had a feeling when her parents reached for the remote to turn on the TV, they'd discover it was cracked.

"My God… you're ins-" she cut herself off, hearing him snarl like a sullen wolf.

"M-Marco? Are you…?"

She watched his figure retreat from her house, but wasn't willing to let him go without more questions being answered. She screamed his name until her throat was sore, rocking back and forth on the chair.

"Marco? Marco!"

The door clicked shut, quietly.

He didn't come back.

Sniffing, she peeled herself off the sofa and walked up the stairs, only to find her parents stood at the foot, their expressions stormy. Janna was about to feign innocence, when she realised she was completely naked.

 _Shit._

Her father covered his eyes, and she attempted to cover herself, whilst her mother sighed deeply in disappointment.

"Er…I can explain." She began.


	17. Do Not Disturb

**Overview: Ludo toys with Star's head, causing her nightmares about Ferguson's death, slowly changing her identity. Brittney and Sabrina make a journey out of Echo Creek.**

* * *

 **Ludo**

He loved what it was like inside her mind. Besides the word MARCO being engraved everywhere, it was a lovely little castle, yet an empty one. Her parents were absent, and she wasn't there herself. He continued to walk around, searching her head.

A portrait of the Butterfly family hung on one of the walls. The eyes of the king and queen had been scratched out, and written around it were the words:

 **HE** ** _IS OUR FAMILY NOW._**

He also noticed that other words had been scratched into the walls of the castle.

 ** _AVENGE THEM_**

That message was scrawled in red, dripping onto the ground. Ludo stepped around what appeared to be a puddle of blood, eyes flitting around. There were still more messages written on the walls.

 ** _STONE COLD BITCH_**

He kept reading, in a mixture of amusement and amazement at what the girl's head had become. So this was what he was doing to a sweet, blonde-haired broken little thing. Something about this was strangely amusing.

 ** _JAGGED SHARDS OF A SHATTERED GIRL WOMAN_**

Ludo had no idea what most of this meant, continuing to look around until he noticed a poem inscribed on the walls, in the same shade of red he had seen earlier. A laugh almost came from his sealed lips as his eyes fell upon the lines of poetry.

 ** _HERR GOD, HERR LUCIFER_**

 ** _BEWARE_**

 ** _BEWARE_**

 ** _OUT OF THE ASH I RISE_**

 ** _WITH MY BLONDE HAIR_**

 ** _AND I EAT MEN LIKE AIR_**

There was even more in terms of poetry. He kept reading, never faltering or stopping. Although John Doe's orders had been to leave Star for the time being, he felt like he had the right to snoop and learn more about their mutual enemy.

Perhaps, if he mastered the skill of entering the heads of others, he would enter his partner's head. There seemed to be ulterior motives that his partner concealed. Ludo sighed, having finished reading the next part.

 ** _I'M A PAPER DOLL_**

 ** _YOU CAN TEAR ME UP_**

 ** _WE'LL BE THE BROKEN LOVERS_**

 ** _WITH THE POISON CUP_**

He shuddered, when he'd read the rest. Continuing onwards, he entered a large stretch of ballroom. Whirling around him were all sorts of dancers – ladies and lords, and a particularly familiar face. Not Ferguson's, not Alfonzo's, not even Marco's.

Axel.

His partner had described their relationship, and it surprised him to see that the memory remained in her subconscious. As his eyes scanned the area, he noted that Star was absent from the twirling, laughing figures out on the dancing floors.

Instead, she sat in the balcony, sipping wine, but was also flanked by a knight. He couldn't make out the features of the knight – as their visor was down – but one very noticeable feature was the colour scheme.

Star was in colour, her normal, light blue dress with a small hint of lilac. However, the knight behind her was dressed in black from head to toe. Ludo smirked, glancing around the room – he simply needed to reach the girl.

The guards let him through when he explained that _he_ was in control, and eventually he found himself on the balcony, standing only a few metres from Star.

Was she even conscious? Ludo chose to come to the conclusion that he was indifferent, either way, stepping closer. He finally approached, bowing before her. At the sight of him, she jumped up from the arms of the knight, whimpering.

The knight, in turn, whispered in her ears, trying his best to soothe her.

Ludo cleared his throat, aware he hadn't spoken since he had entered her mind. And he was sure, when he was informing her of her actions, his voice couldn't shake, break or even be the slightest bit husky.

"What have you done?" His eyes softened with fake-worry.

"This is preposterous. Get rid of them. I have a settle to score with _you_ , and you only." The landscape tore like paper, leaving just the balcony. The rest of the background was plain white, the graceful, dancing figures and the knight disappearing, not leaving so much as a trace.

Ludo crafted a new landscape – one that zoomed in on the two of them, still stood upon the balcony. He proceeded to transform from Ludo, himself, to a second Star. They were almost the same, except his eyes were sadder.

And rather than having hearts on his cheeks, he had teardrops.

"We wanted to hurt him. He flirted, laughed, didn't understand we wanted Marco. And… when he made a move…."

Star whimpered again, her limbs thrashing about in fright.

"Who?" Her voice was low, fearful.

"Ferguson. We killed him. We hit him, even when he stopped moving. We hit him until his body couldn't be identified. Then Marco threw him into the flames, to hide our crime."

"N-no… I can't have…"

Ludo's eyes shone with sincerity. Silently, he praised himself for his excellent performance. Shaking his head slowly, he chose to confirm her worries.

"Marco says he did it… but he's scared. He's scared we'll hurt someone else."

"I didn't kill him."

"Deny it… we can deny it… but we did."

"Why would I…? He was our friend."

"Was."

Tears pricked the first Star's eyes, and she twitched again, sobbing deeply.

"It's okay… it's okay. I don't want to hurt anyone else. I hurt myself, instead. The urges go away… then…"

Ludo morphed back into himself, ripping the landscape into pieces. He took control again, using his abilities to recreate the dancing figures. They continued to dance as if nothing had happened, and Ludo teleported down to join them.

He didn't dance, but instead stared up at Star, who remained on the balcony. Although he couldn't see her clearly, he knew there were tears in her eyes, and he was glad.

Step one of his plan had been completed.

* * *

 **John Doe**

"My sources tell me you went somewhere of your own accord, Ludo. And somewhere I _specifically_ told you not to go."

Ludo smirked, looking away. "You're mistaken."

They frowned slightly, changing their expression to nothing but passive. If Ludo wanted to act such a child, they weren't supposed to care. Though it did irritate them slightly – were they forced into partnership with a dullard?

Before they could compose themselves, the words slipped from their loosened lips.

"Gods. Why must you act like such a child?"

"I'm no child. You take too long, and rarely take action." Ludo snapped, and they turned away, glaring at the ground. There was no need for them to mind their courtesies by this point – that was clearly a personal attack.

"Then I'm sure I do not need to announce the next stage of our plan."

"Go ahead. Is it more planning?" Ludo bit back, prompting them to roll their eyes.

 _What a foolish child you are…_

"Not at all. There are two marks on the dimension, Earth. Both of which are needed to eradicate our enemies."

"I have no quarrel with the boy. Should he remain involved?" Ludo replied, suddenly snapping out of his childish state.

"And that matters, why? He is simply an extension of the plan. We take these two marks off the map, followed by the rest of this town. Once these marks are… collected, then we start their training."

"Are we collecting all of them at once?"

"No, of course not. The town needs not be alarmed just yet. But those two marks, ought to be removed today. My little spies tell me lots of things. Apparently, the two marks are departing the town today."

"I presume you want me to intercept them."

"You've a sharp mind. Of course…"

"If we take the children later, for training… the town – they can't receive their children ever again."

John Doe smirked in that moment. "I can agree with you… on a level."

The evil smile was soon swapped out for a completely blank expression, as they rose up, and walked out of the door. Ludo was left there, with their chilling words hanging in the air.

* * *

 **Brittney**

Perhaps they had been walking for an hour or so. She was unsure how far out of town they needed to go, and had wished she'd begged Sabrina for a taxi earlier. Though she was aware Sabrina would scold her, pointing out they would be found quickly.

Before they'd reached this part of Echo Creek, they had purchased sunglasses and wigs. The wig was kind of itchy, but she avoided scratching her head in the fear that the wig would slip to the side of her head, and she wouldn't notice.

"God. This town never _ends_ , does it?" Sabrina bit her lip and shook her head, but didn't bother saying a word to her about complaining in such a dire situation. Instead, she pressed a finger to her lips, continuing forward.

They had reached a large, white sign that stood up tall and straight in the grass, reading:

YOU ARE NOW LEAVING ECHO CREEK.

"Bingo." Brittney hissed, clasping Sabrina's hand and glancing at her. Their interlocked eyes spoke more than their words, as the duo slowly approached the sign, passing it by no more than two metres before they broke apart.

"You sure you're not coming with me?"

"…I think it's better you go by yourself."

A sad smile crossed her face, and Brittney only just realised how much her friend meant to her in that moment. The sadness was replaced with a dab of joy, which quickly transitioned back into melancholy.

"I'll really miss you."

"…Everyone will."

"Even though they all think I'm an evil bitch girl, who deserves what she got."

"…I don't think they think that… anymore."

Beneath an elongated, beautiful tree, the two wrapped their arms around in each other in a warm embrace, pressing their foreheads against each other. Brittney sighed when she saw tears rolling down her friend's cheeks.

"Please, don't cry."

"Easier said than done."

She was unsure how long the hug had lasted, until she heard a dull clunk, and watched her friend rock violently on her feet, before pitching forward, too dazed to protect her head. Brittney dropped low, lifting Sabrina's head.

"Holy shit, holy shit…" she was whispering under her breath, reaching for her phone.

She stabbed at the numbers on her phone, and the minute another human voice came over the line, she gabbled, uncaring to whether they would understand her babbling speech.

"911, Echo Creek. What's your emergency?"

"I…my friend… she just fell… she's not breathing… oh God, oh God… just outside of Echo Creek… Sabrina… she-"

A mist filled her nostrils, and she plummeted to the ground, discovering she had lost the ability to move her limbs. However, her eyes continued to search the grass, despite her paralysis, seeing Sabrina sprawled out in the grass.

Besides Sabrina was her cell phone – she could still hear the operator, and exhaled deeply, ready to start her rambling speech again, until she attempted to move her tongue. Like the rest of her, it ceased to function.

The voice on the other side of the telephone begged her to slow down, then yelled out if she was still there as she went silent. Although she was still conscious, she could barely make out the basic shapes of trees, seeing a familiar creature in a skull swooping down to grab her phone, in order to switch it off.

 _Ludo._

Stretched out in the mud, Brittney attempted to roll over, unsuccessfully. Ludo yelled out a cry, after handling her phone, prompting eight other creatures to crawl from the bushes.

Four restrained her unconscious friend, forcing Brittney to watch helplessly, as the other four circled her, one of them tapping her forehead. Her eyelids fluttered and she stirred, praying she'd stay awake.

That wasn't the case. The last thing she heard was a horse's neigh, briefly glimpsing the afternoon sky, as she floated through it.

At least she'd escaped Echo Creek.

* * *

 **Sorry about the lack of updates. I'm not sure when the next ones will be, but I intend to start releasing chapters in pairs for a while (because the next chapters are connected). Thank you for all your kind reviews! Hopefully the long wait for these chapters was worth it.**

 **Also, a lot of people have been PMing me about Local Foreigner. For the time being, that story is on a very long hiatus. I keep trying to come up with ideas, but I'm experiencing serious writer's block. However, with Trial and Execution, I keep getting new ideas, causing me to rewrite chapters repeatedly.**

 **And on a final note, in the next chapter, I'll be answering a couple of questions I've been getting about this story.**

 **~ Tangiers**


	18. The Black Knight Loses

**After a month of no updates, I have finally returned. It's not that easy to write these chapters, but I enjoy writing this, because I keep coming up with new twists and turns. So thank you for everyone who continued to wait for updates, because the next chapters have finally been finished.**

 **~ Tangiers**

 **Overview: Brittney and Sabrina wake up in their new environment. Meanwhile, Star wakes up with her new memories, and a new burst of confidence, much to Marco's dismay.**

* * *

 **Brittney**

She had woken up at least fifteen minutes ago, and the foul stench of vomit and excrement filled her nostrils. Glancing upwards, she carefully pulled herself into a sitting position, shifting slightly. A metal clink sounded, and in that moment, she noticed the shackles around her legs.

Sighing, she shook her foot once, twice, and then a third time, in order to bring the feeling back to it. To her right lay Sabrina, who seemed to be conscious. Brittney confirmed her consciousness when she saw the girl's chest rise and fall.

"Br…ittney…?"

"I'm here." She was lying flat on her back, no longer seeing Sabrina, but shook in relief that her friend was still alive.

"What happened?" The speaking voice was fearful, and husky. There was a rattling of chains and a yelp of surprise – Brittney realised that she had discovered her shackles. Sabrina stayed down, whimpering.

"I… don't know. Something heavy hit you on the head, and then you fell. I tried to call the police, but then I inhaled this… mist… stuff, and we both ended up here."

The whimpering continued, and Brittney huffed, checking how tight the chains locked around her legs were. It was beginning to itch down there, but she was unable to move her hand to the affected area.

"Who did this?"

She bit her lip, thinking about the weight of the situation. And shortly afterwards, she came to the conclusion that Sabrina was owed the truth. It was all her fault that they'd been captured.

"You know that guy who showed up to my birthday party, two years ago?"

"Er… yeah, the one with the skull hat… thing…"

"I saw him pick up my phone. So he was involved… somehow…"

They fell silent when they heard the door open with a creak. Stood in the doorway was a fairly tall woman, with short, white curly hair. Two pairs of eyes followed as she walked in, flanked by four guards.

"Girls." The speaking voice was clipped, and cold. Brittney stared upwards at the woman, the focus making her dizzy. Her appearance seemed familiar, yet she couldn't quite figure out where she'd seen the woman before.

"Are you both well?"

"What?" Sabrina had managed to sit upright, eyes red and bleary. Although she yawned halfway through her words, her eyes had brightened and seemed slightly more aware of everything around her.

"Oh, of course…" She grinned in that moment, flashing them an eerie flicker of a smile. "I forgot to welcome you."

The guards behind her smirked, sending shivers down Brittney's spine.

"Welcome to St Olga's Reform School for Wayward Children. Now, guards, undo these poor girls' chains, and lead them to their new rooms."

With one clink, and the twist of a key, Brittney's dead legs were free. As she rose to her feet, she found herself swaying, but determinedly grabbed Sabrina's hand, pulling her up. Clearly, Sabrina was unable to move herself.

"Are you alright?" She hissed, as they followed the woman out of the cell, and into the heart of the school.

Sabrina didn't reply with words, but bit her lip and nodded. It took Brittney no more than a minute to notice that her lip was quivering, and she was anything but okay. Frowning, she said no more, but tightened her grip on Sabrina's hand.

They reached a large, but not lit, bonfire, along with a giant set of gates.

"Here," she began, gesturing to the unlit bonfire, "is where your hunt will happen."

Something about the word 'hunt' caused Brittney to recall things about Marco. No visible stress showed on her face, all she did was blink once or twice at the sound of the word. It seemed wrong in the context implied… like the woman was hiding something.

Brittney rubbed her forehead and turned to Sabrina, muttering "At least this means we're safe from John Doe."

Sabrina grinned, then her grin turned to a grimace. She was narrowing her eyes in concentration as the woman pulled them away from the bolted gates, and towards their chambers – as if there were several thoughts she needed to balance out in her mind.

Seconds later, Sabrina leaned in to Brittney and quickly whispered something, something she didn't quite catch. Shrugging her shoulders and wearing the blankest expression she could manage, Brittney turned away.

"Your school's kind of empty, Miss…what did you say your name was, again?" Brittney's comment turned to a question.

" _Ms_ Heinous, my dear. And, no, no, it is not. The students are all out on errands. You two will join them in due time. For now, I think you both ought to rest." She flashed a truly disturbing smile at Brittney, who tried not to cringe.

"…I'm sorry, Ms Heinous."

"It's quite alright, my dear. Your room has already been assigned to you, so the walk shan't be much longer."

"Ahem. Assigned?" The speaker wasn't Brittney, but instead Sabrina. It sounded very little like her – the tone was more assertive, more confident… she seemed to question Ms Heinous' logic.

"Well, we…I had this planned for quite a while. Echo Creek has a whole block dedicated to them. You seem to be filled with wayward children. Particularly…" She trailed off, and quietened, continuing to walk.

They stopped in front of some glass doors. Ms Heinous removed a card from deep in her clothing, and swiped it, causing the doors to pull apart and open. There sat brochures, a hot drinks machine, and white chairs.

"This is just the reception. Help yourselves to a drink, whilst I get your room keys ready."

Neither of them moved, but they eyed the machine with curiosity. There were all sorts of drinks, from cappuccinos to lattes. Brittney managed not to raise an eyebrow at how the school seemed to resemble a hotel.

"I suppose you both weren't thirsty. Never mind, then." Ms Heinous handed them their room keys, and led them out into another corridor.

"You're both not very talkative, are you? It's a shame, girls. Getting a drink would've been smart. I highly doubt you'll be in reception again, unless you… well, unless you colossally _fu_ \- mess… mess up. But… you both seem smart, so I doubt _that'll_ happen any time soon."

"Mm." Brittney nodded and nudged Sabrina gently, who seemed to be staring into space aimlessly.

She didn't speak.

The trio finally reached their destination – light blue doors, that had the golden letters 'EC' engraved into the knockers to indicate where they were from. She snorted, but neither Sabrina or Ms Heinous took any notice.

"So… how do we open… our doors?" Brittney's head cocked to one side.

There didn't seem to be a visible slot for the key cards to go in.

"You saw how I opened reception. I thought you were smart, Brittney."

She didn't shudder at the fact someone she didn't know knew her name, but instead was filled with determination. Her key was in her hand and she stood at the door, as she tried to find some sort of slot for it. Biting her lip, she found none.

Ms Heinous laughed, walking up, and snatching the card from her hand effortlessly. She pulled up the handle of their door, which in turn, revealed a small slot for the card to fit into, just beneath it. Then, she pushed the card in, and pulled the handle, pushing the door open.

"There you go. Be sure to remember that."

Brittney stammered, thanking her, and Sabrina entered after her, slamming the door shut. When they could no longer hear the faint clicking of her footsteps, indicating she was gone, Sabrina immediately started to rant about the situation.

"We're _not_ on Earth, Brittney! We need to get the hell out of here!"

"You heard what she said, Sabrina. First, we ought to get some rest." A smile spread across her face, as she flopped on one of the comfortable beds.

"You don't get it, do you? We've been _literally_ kidnapped-"

"Sabrina. You really do need a rest. Are you not aware what it means if we're _clearly_ not on Earth? Must I spell it out for you? Even if we leave, we aren't getting back to Echo Creek any time soon. Besides, I'd like to meet these new students."

"I don't think this place is safe."

Brittney rolled her eyes, sitting up on the bed. "News flash, Sabrina, neither is Echo Creek. Marco and Star are doing nothing but causing trouble."

She pointed at her face. "Do you really think I want to go back to being hidden from the world? If we go back, I'm just waiting for one of those fuckers to climb in through my window and murder me."

"…You heard about Ferguson…" Sabrina trailed off.

"Well, I mean, he might not be dead… but… I know for a _fact_ Dead Eyes had something to do with his disappearance."

"I think you give him too much credit. I doubt he was involved with that."

"I think you don't give him _enough_ credit." Brittney retorted, falling back onto the bed.

"Fair enough." Sabrina muttered, curling up on other bed.

Neither of them said goodnight to each other before they both fell asleep.

* * *

 **Star**

The word jealousy was a strange one. And the meaning only confused her more – what it meant for her, what it justified in her eyes, and what it really meant in _his_.

She felt like the black knight simply couldn't protect her this time.

Maybe she distrusted more than that about him. It was too hard for her to come to a conclusion.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she flashed a smile at Marco. Everything about her had changed – her eyes had dimmed slightly, and her hair had become a long curtain that covered her eyes. Something told her everyone knew she had changed.

Mrs Diaz anxiously asked her questions, and Marco's tone towards his parents became much colder. They didn't seem to pay much attention to the fact she rarely spoke to anyone but Marco anymore.

Perhaps she did only need him, but she wasn't sure anymore.

 _I want to trust you, but these memories keep telling me not to._

After dinner, and persistent questioning over whether she was okay, Star reached for Marco's arm, tugging it with urgency. She had come up with many questions of her own about their status, Brittney, Ferguson, and Janna.

They had been huddled in his bedroom, discussing the events of Quest Buy, and Brittney's party.

Star struggled to hold her tongue – she desperately wanted to ask him whether Ferguson's murder had been brutal, and why she had done it. If he had tried to stop her, or if he had helped her.

She wanted to ask him to go into her head.

But she still felt a lingering sense of distrust around him – like something about him just wasn't right. These thoughts did nothing but frustrate her further; she rubbed her knuckles against her forehead.

"Star? Move your hair. I want to see you." There it was, the order she was unsure whether she had to follow or not. Her hands stayed stiff and still at her sides, but she sensed that he was giving her the death glare. The hair suddenly seemed like a good feature.

"No."

"Listen to me."

"No."

" _Listen_ to me."

Of course, the tone of voice had changed from a stern, angry one, to a flat monotone. He was masking his guilt with apathy, and she was sure that was why she struggled to trust him anymore. He did nothing but lie to himself and his own emotions.

"I'm going to count to three."

She hadn't moved a muscle.

"One."

And the minute he said the first syllable, her arms had forced themselves upwards, parting the curtain in front of her eyes. She could see him much more clearly, and disliked it – he was grotesque, face contorted in fury.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?"

She chose to ignore him.

"Janna. What do we do about her?"

His lip curled, and a petulant aura surrounded him for a split second, before he gave his answer.

"We had a special chat." He murmured, licking his lips.

It was her turn to curl her lip in a scowl. If he wasn't going to eliminate Janna, then she would have to do it herself. She was now thinking of how to rid herself of Janna without his knowledge of her actions, but continued to keep his attention.

Calmly, Star nodded, and proceeded to ask another question.

"About what?"

"You're just _full_ of questions, aren't you?"

She struggled, but managed not to glare at him.

"I got her to strip down."

A shock wave pulsed through her, but she had learned quickly that that was what he wanted. He wanted to manipulate her feelings and thoughts until he was all she thought of. This thought was enough for her to smile sweetly at him.

"I'm sure she gave you a good time." All the willpower she had was used to prevent the answer from being delivered through clenched teeth.

"Mm." He seemed distracted. "We still have problems, though."

 _Problems._ Not people, not personal conflicts. Just _problems_ to him.

"Alfonzo, for example. And Janna is a small problem."

"Because…?"

"Well, we didn't hold up our end of the bargain for Janna, so she won't trace John Doe. And I _know_ how much you want them found." He'd moved closer towards her on the bed, until his forehead was pressed against hers.

Star shuddered, feeling heat spreading through her chest.

"We'll find them. With or without her help – don't worry."

"I…what about Alfonzo?"

"He has to die sometime."

Star sucked in air through her teeth, tasting what seemed to be salt. She licked her lips, trying to think whether she wanted him to change his mind about it or if it was better that way.

He'd never killed someone before.

Perhaps it would go amazingly, and he wouldn't be caught. But she was sure that with his brutal, sadistic ways, it would be sloppy, evidence would be scattered everywhere – and he'd go down.

What was she thinking? It didn't just involve him. They were together. They would do the deed together, and thus they would go down together.

There was still the small chance it would go wrong, and she wasn't willing to risk it. Shaking her head, she tried her hand at being assertive.

"I don't think that's a good idea." The voice was more of a squeak than an actual voice – she was unsure whether she had said it or not.

"No?" He cocked an eyebrow, seemingly amused.

"He…Echo Creek is on red alert. They think Ferguson was kidnapped and murdered."

Marco seemed to hold himself back, but broke the connection between their foreheads in order to display his displeasure. A small smirk appeared on his face, and he joined his hands together.

"And how did you learn this?"

Bitterness gathered within her, as she recalled the set of events.

"You left me," she began, her eyes glinting in both envy and contempt, "to fuck Janna. I woke up, y'know. And I saw the news on your iPad. Ferguson's… disappearance… was all over it."

He swallowed at the harsh words, and Star secretly felt some confusion that he didn't hit her. Then, there was the inhalation of one long, sharp breath. His intake of breath caused her to hold her own.

"We've agreed that you keep swearing to a minimum."

"That's not important. What's important is that if we… eliminate… Alfonzo, we have to be discreet. Calm, if we're questioned. Can you manage that?"

The slap she received caused her to wince, but she showed no other signs of pain. Examining her face in his mirror, she could make out a ghostly handprint on the flesh, surrounded by hot and angry red.

Smiling, she turned to look at him. The smugness in her eyes was not visible to her, but she could feel it lighting them up, and suddenly filling her with energy she didn't know she possessed.

"Clearly, you can't maintain your composure. You're only proving my point." Her tone was patronising, with a hint of confidence, and she loved it.

He might as well have been breathing fire in that moment, because she was sure the room filled with smoke. Or something that made her weary and dizzy, causing her to collapse back onto the bed.

Marco hovered above her, scrabbling with his belt. Star didn't bother getting her arms into a futile position to protect herself – but lay spread-eagled on his bed, ready for whatever he wanted to do to her.

The first thwack with the belt left a red, weeping sore on her left leg. The centre of the belt caught on her right arm, and he dragged it down, eyes widening with sadistic glee. Star couldn't take the smile off her face.

Her knee rose upwards, and she sent a sharp blow to his stomach. Coughing, gasping for air, he fell to the side next to her, as she snatched up his belt. Without a second thought, she tossed it into the corner of his room.

"Control yourself." She whispered, amazed by the new sensations, the new emotions. Maybe she could murder him, like Ferguson.

Or make _him_ the doll this time, forcing him to do everything she told him.

Monitoring what he ate and drank.

Restricting the times he could sleep and be awake.

Instead of attacking the creature howling in pain in his own room, she scooped up her wand from the ground, removing the magical padlock from the door. He was yelling her name as she sped across the corridor to her own bedroom.

She slammed the door and applied the padlock again, calmly standing with her forehead pressed against the door.

She wasn't listening to him!

She was doing something by herself!

Star was overwhelmed by a variety of emotions, and the giddy feeling of being free.

Minutes later, Marco arrived at her door, snivelling and ordering her to open the door. He told her that he was sorry, that he would never do it again, and murmured something she couldn't make out. Still, the door remained locked.

"I know you're sorry, Marco. It's this sort of behaviour that makes me struggle to trust you."

"Take the padlock off the door."

"I'm sorry, Marco. I'm afraid I can't do that. But, I've always wanted to talk to you. Just… I feel like I can't."

"Do it right now. I can't hurt you." She was sure she almost heard resent in his voice, but broke into a speech.

"...I have a lot to tell you. Things you won't understand, like, killing someone, Marco. You don't get how hard it is… how everyone sees you. I almost caused a political disaster, 'til they caught the real killer…"

"Star… you're not making sense."

"Listen to me. When I was ten, my mother and I went to my aunt Arabella's… friend… I think… yeah, friend's wedding. And someone gifted me an emerald bracelet, an old friend of my mother. It turns out the emeralds on my bracelet weren't emeralds. They were ground up into a powder, and then-"

"So you've murdered someone."

"Stop interrupting! They were ground up into a powder, and someone slipped them into the lord's goblet. Or… er… was he a king…? I don't remember. Anyway, his lips turned blue and then he died. So when the cupbearer reached for the cup to check what was in it, they found the green… stuff… on my bracelet."

"But… you were only ten…"

"Yeah, it was ridiculous. Mother thought so too. I was taken into custody, questioned, and magic was used to make sure I was telling the truth. But…Axel…my…he… trusted me, all that time. And it's all I ever wanted, Marco! I just want someone to trust back! Y'know why? Because I _know_ I won't _ever_ get him back!"

"You want to feel." He whispered into the door, and Star felt warm tears splash down her cheeks. She kept her voice steady, and nodded, managing to make her voice work.

"I _want_ to want you, Marco, but I can't. Too much keeps happening. I killed Ferguson, I killed that king… and… I don't want to hurt anyone else. I don't want you… if you're just going to hurt others. Look at you – you're not just hurting Alfonzo, Janna and Brittney. You're hurting me too."

There was silence at the door, and Star regretted every word that had come out of her mouth. Yet when her lips parted to correct her errors, she found that only air surrounded her. She wasn't going to retract her statements, because there was a hint of truth in them.

The silence only lasted a few moments, before Marco calmly drew breaths and Star whispered, lying, into the door that she was sorry. He couldn't hear her, though – and she was sure it was better that way.

"You didn't kill Ferguson." His voice was cold, yet shaky. She imagined a cold rage building within him.

Still, she chose not to reply.

"You don't get it. I did it for you. I did it for _us_ , because we're per-"

"You're not _good_ for me, Marco. You know why? Because you're a fucking _monster._ You're not good for _anyone_ , because you… there's nothing to you! No morals, no responsibility, no conscience! I don't _want_ a relationship with someone like that! I want someone who sees me as a person, not their puppet! John Doe was right about you. And me. I'm not your doll anymore, Marco."

The last sentence was delivered with a cold anger Star had no idea she contained.

"That's not-"

"Leave me alone!"

She attacked the door, and Star was sure Marco could hear her hands pounding on it. Star almost lost a nail to the wood, leaving scratch marks all over it. The wood splintered, yet no splinters gathered in her fingers.

Her fingers were bruised and bloody, and only then, she had moved away from the door, solely to nurse her fingers.

She heard retreating footsteps, and fell against the door, sobbing names.

Axel, Father, Mother, Brittney, Sabrina, Ferguson, Janna, Alfonzo. Axel, Father, Mother…

 _The Black Knight's name was not amongst them._


	19. Enemy

**Overview: John Doe communicates with Alfonzo and Janna – they quickly form an alliance. Star finally acts, much to Marco's fear.**

* * *

 **Janna**

"Alfonzo." She was trying to snap him out of his trance, but it didn't seem to be working. He continued to stare off into space, and shuddered when anyone other than her approached him or called his name.

"Alfonzo!" Shouting seemed to do the trick – his head jerked violently, and his eyes seemed to glisten with fear.

"They're here. C'mon, we need to get going."

He seemed slightly out of it, but managed to respond with a question.

"Where?"

She inspected her phone, carefully reading off and relaying the instructions to the vegetable she was clasping the hand of. Her voice was slow, almost patient, but on the inside, she was stressing about what Marco had told her.

Glancing over at Alfonzo, a wave of guilt washed over her.

 _I really should tell him. But do I really need to pit him against Marco?_

She was convinced Marco would make a powerful enemy.

He _had_ nearly killed her.

Janna reflected on the ruined dress, the broken TV screen, and then discovered that her hands were tightly wrapped around her throat – Alfonzo stood, frozen in horror.

"I…we need to get to the train station's car park. We should hurry up." Alfonzo stared at her anxiously, but to her relief, didn't ask any further questions. They spent the rest of their walk in silence, with Janna pondering whether there were marks on her neck, and how visible they were.

She had snuck a few looks at Alfonzo, but his face was emotionless – his movements seemed clunky, forced and robotic. Perhaps he was gone inside – and he wouldn't violently react to hearing of his friend's death.

Janna held the thought, as they reached the car park. Her phone buzzed again, and she let go of Alfonzo's hand for a few minutes, praying he wouldn't wander off.

The instructions they had given her had been strangely specific. Her eyes strayed to the screen.

 _Janna – I am aware you do not know what I look like. I have black sunglasses, I am wearing a black jacket, with grey trousers. I am stood by the third orange car, just opposite the train station building._

"This way." She told Alfonzo, tugging him towards the row of cars parked opposite the building. She spotted four orange cars straight away, but only one person was hovering by one of them. Janna started to run, causing Alfonzo to yelp, and bolt after her.

"You're here." Their tone seemed disinterested.

"Yes." She nudged Alfonzo, who continued staring off into space, hopping from foot to foot.

"So you are _both_ enemies of Marco Diaz… and Star Butterfly." They concluded.

Janna considered saying _not Star_ , but she kept her lips in a straight line and nodded.

They were virtually covered – with a black hat concealing hair that she assumed was short, or non-existent.

"Is he alright?" There almost seemed to be sincerity in their voice, yet, it was edged with ice. Something about their voice seemed strained and distant – they seemed to wish to close the emotional gap separating them from her and Alfonzo, but struggled to do so.

"He's fine. Aren't you, Alfonzo?" She dug him in the ribs with her elbows to make sure. It worked – his eyes focussed on the cloaked, concealed person stood before them. And without hesitation, he nodded, even managing a faint smile.

"Have you told him?"

"…Told him what?" Her voice changed from calm to fearful.

"Alfonzo. I know you are not Marco Diaz's enemy… yet. But I am sure that will all change-"

"Don't…please…" Her voice weakly trailed off.

"I must. If you have to, cover your ears, Janna."

"How do you-"

"Hush, my girl. Now, Alfonzo, Marco Diaz has wronged you in many ways. But there is an act he has committed – one _truly_ unacceptable – and I know you can never forgive him for it. Are you sure you're in the right state of mind to hear of his crimes?"

Janna stared at John Doe, and then at Alfonzo. He seemed to swallow, and proceeded to nod, to show he was definitely ready to hear what Marco had done.

She closed her eyes, and felt shockwaves of pain course through her. She no longer saw them both, but could hear them explain how Marco had murdered Ferguson, and left his body to burn in Quest Buy.

The images of the knife being against her throat were suddenly more vivid – he was about to slice her throat open-

John Doe tapped their foot on the ground. Janna, sensing the story had ended, opened her eyes again, with extreme reluctance.

"Neither of you are safe here, so I propose that we form an alliance, to fight back against Marco Diaz, and Star Butterfly."

Janna grinned.

"I'm listening."

Alfonzo leaned in slightly more, to show interest.

"Not now. You have my number – I want to meet you somewhere… less public. I will send you a message when I think it's appropriate."

She frowned straight away.

"You can't just-"

She blinked – the blink didn't last more than a second, yet the scenery changed completely.

Bizarrely enough, they had vanished. Janna turned to look at Alfonzo to see if he'd noticed their disappearance, but he showed no visible confusion – her eyes went back to the spot John Doe had been stood at.

Nothing was there – they had literally vanished into thin air.

 _What?_

She turned back to Alfonzo, who was kicking small stones, wondering if she could really look him in the eye. He seemed to have stiffened visibly.

"Why didn't you tell me?" His voice was low, laced with disappointment.

"You know now. That's what matters. Now, c'mon." Their fingers interlocked, and she ended up essentially dragging him down the street – his feet seemed to be glued to the pavement.

"Stop dragging your feet." She hissed angrily.

"You weren't going to tell me… who killed my best friend. You knew, and you kept it from me." His tone was casual, yet riddled with visible grief.

He pulled out of her grasp, and Janna took a single step back.

Her eyes scanned the area, until she was convinced she was in a safe zone. Taking a step closer to Alfonzo, she placed a finger on his lips.

"Marco visited me, to confess what he'd done. But he almost _killed_ me, Alfonzo. I wasn't going to tell you until I was sure he wouldn't murder us both. I don't want you to die. I didn't want _anyone_ to die."

He quietened, much to her relief, and willingly let her grip his hand – it was no longer to comfort him, she thought, with gritted teeth, but to comfort herself.

As they walked, Janna heard rustling – but logically told herself not to turn towards it, continuing to hold Alfonzo. She could feel his fingers shaking, and his hands were sweating – it was kind of disgusting, but she maintained her patience.

A twig snapped behind them, but she came to the conclusion yet again not to look. It was probably just a wild animal, or something.

"Janna, Janna. There's something behind us."

She clenched her teeth and gave an answer through them, continuing their walk – the rustling bushes were in front of them this time.

Janna frowned, slowly approaching the bushes, still tugging Alfonzo behind her.

A largely-built, humanoid figure stepped out from the bushes, and ran towards them. Janna backed away, still holding Alfonzo – she began to run, even as her feet began to ache. Janna darted through road after road, constantly changing direction.

Alfonzo let go of her hand to run more effectively, but huffed and puffed as they finally stopped by a row of houses, where there were witnesses scattered everywhere.

The humanoid figure reappeared, eyes narrowed.

"Is rude to run." They spoke with a heavy Russian accent.

They logically took off again, only to run into a set of fences. Janna was about to pace, fearfully thinking of all the things the creature could do to them, until she realised the fences likely led into someone's garden.

"Alfonzo, give me a leg up."

"Janna…"

He was whispering, as more creatures climbed, slithered, and walked towards them. Each of them had been hidden quite effectively – one snake-like creature had been wrapped around the branch of a tree, but was now at her feet.

"I know it's trespassing, but we're kind of in deep shi-" She cut off, when she noticed they were surrounded.

She exhaled deeply. "Leg up. Now."

He shook his head, and she turned to see the… thing… with the Russian accent climbing the fence from the other side.

"Game is over."

They kicked her once, in the head, and she went limp, collapsing to the ground. Janna didn't have time to react – she lay there, with a sharp pain jolting through her body.

Another hit came her way, and her eyelids fluttered.

"Very good. Sleep, child, sleep."

If she had quicker reaction time, she would've fought back.

She croaked out Alfonzo's name, before the colour drained from the world.

* * *

 **Marco**

A day after she'd screamed at him, he had stared at her door, footsteps slowly approaching her door, then hesitating and returning to his own. Now, he was back at her door, fiercely balling his hand into a fist.

Perhaps he would just burst right in – but he was unsure if the magical padlock was still there. Gulping down the disgusting taste of fear, he gently knocked on her door, and quietly muttered her name.

There was no reply. He wondered if she had eaten, if she had slept, or had spent the entire night bawling. The night they had argued, he thought he'd had a nightmare – the world was black, and his senses dulled, except his hearing.

Her screams pierced his ears, and turned from screams of agony to choking sobs, and weak weeping. As if the crying were draining all of her energy, but she was unable to stop.

Despite burying his head in his pillow, the sound wouldn't leave.

So he lay awake for at least half an hour, with the sound of screams in his ears, in his pitch-black room.

Still, he had been too proud to apologise to Star.

Biting his lip, he tried to count the minutes spent outside her door.

"Star?" She remained in her fury, having said nothing still.

Scratching his head, he turned on his heel, walking back to his room.

The next day marked the third day they hadn't spoken. His parents were out at work that day, and he was busy fixing himself breakfast. Star still hadn't come down to get herself food – but remained holed up in her room.

Finishing pouring his cereal, he picked up the bowl and left the kitchen, spoon in hand. He was sure he could hear churning, and footsteps above him. Breathing in again, he started to run, his feet padding against their floors.

And he was in the same position he'd been in for two days. Except, this time, there was audible sound coming from behind her door. Now was his chance!

"Star?" Something clattered in her room, and she sighed loudly in exasperation. He heard scrabbling, and presumed she was picking up an object. Marco placed his bowl of soggy cereal on the ground, and rapped on the door.

"Star? Let me in… please…" He choked out the courtesy, licking his lips, still feeling slight disbelief he'd even said that. There was more noise from her room, more clattering, and he was sure he even heard beeping.

Star continued to remain silent, and movement behind the door ceased for a few moments. It was shortly followed by her footsteps, sighing, and quiet muttering. Marco attempted to push the door, but found it wouldn't budge.

So the padlock had stayed on it.

"Look, I'm sorry."

"That's not enough."

His mouth gaped open at the sound of her voice.

She was _actually_ speaking to him this time.

He inhaled deeply, and forced a smile to show up on his face – although she couldn't see it, just smiling made him feel friendlier.

He clenched his jaw, but managed to let some strangled words out.

"Then how do I make it up to you?"

More silence, and the sound of more things being moved. She groaned, and he could hear her trying to swat a fly.

She kept growling at the fly, and he imagined her moving her hands frantically, trying to get it to die.

The thought brought a smile to his face, until he recalled the situation he was in.

"S-Star… you have to tell me where I went wrong."

"You know where you went wrong." Her voice held no emotion. It was louder, though – as if she was closer to the door, or perhaps shouting.

He tried to think where he'd gone wrong, but it occurred to him he hadn't done anything. She had just snapped, and he thought giving her time would be fine.

Sighing, he leaned his head against the door.

"Let me in, please."

He sat with his back against the door, and almost felt tears trail down them. Then, he remembered that he'd stopped crying, long ago. Clenching his fists, he turned back to the door – if he had to order her to open the door, he would do it.

"This is… pointless. If you don't tell me what's pissing you off, I can't help you!"

He heard a fly buzz, and could vaguely make out Star talking to someone. He frowned, pounding his fists on the door.

Shouting at her prompted no response – his doll was slipping through his fingers, and he couldn't stop her.

Marco realised he wasn't filled with anger as his bloody knuckles met the door again. Instead, it was an unmistakeable knot in his stomach – guilt.

Another voice filled the room, followed by Star's. They didn't appear to be speaking in English.

One last hit, and the door flew open, to his surprise.

The room was peaceful.

Too peaceful.

He was cautious as he stepped in, eyes scanning, searching for _her_. Her MirrorNet was up and running – he walked over, seeing that she had recently left a call. His fingers hit the mirror before he could stop himself.

Marco scrolled through the list of contacts. Then, he stopped, pausing to glance at the room again.

No trace of her remained, besides the open window and flapping curtain.

She couldn't have jumped, surely. He ran towards the window, and perched on the sill. Marco stared into their garden, but didn't see a corpse. There was no blood, nothing – Star had just vanished into thin air.

Returning to the MirrorNet, he decided to look at her most recent communications. Besides the large number of missed calls to her parents, there didn't seem to be anything special about who she had talked to.

There was one number that was marked as "unknown," but the call had lasted no more than two minutes.

He had stopped scrolling, due to boredom, as he saw the same names over and over. Axel, her parents, missed calls from Tom, brief calls from Ludo and his minions – few of which she had picked up – her life was as boring as ever.

Marco started to scroll through her received and sent messages, and for a while, found nothing interesting.

However, his eyes saw something that was cut off at the bottom of the mirror. Surely, his eyes were tricking him – he scrolled down slightly more, revealing the name – the message had been received three days ago.

The name screamed for his attention, or perhaps it was the wind. Either way, his eyes widened and his hands grew slack and clammy.

He couldn't believe it – he had to track her down, as soon as possible.

There was no way she was safe.

Oh God. Oh God.

Tapping the name, he saw that Star had sent them no messages, but had received one.

She had been hiding so much from him.

Marco tried deep breathing again, but his fury overcame him. He was going to kill her, unless she had a fantastic excuse for the bullshit she was pulling.

Immediately, he started to skim through the message.

 _Greetings, Princess Star.  
My men gave me information about you and your companion. We are aware that there has been recent conflict between you both, and therefore, I am offering you shelter. If you choose not to accept, that is perfectly acceptable. But do remember, if you seek asylum from your companion if they destabilise, please remember that our doors are always open. Call me if you wish for shelter, and I will disclose information on how to reach us._

 _\- John Doe_


	20. John's 3 Days of Questioning (Day One)

**"You have three days to question them, and that will be all. It will be incredibly tense for the families, so I want nothing that will cause a circus in here. Am I understood?"**

It seemed pretty clear that the judge was no nonsense, so they nodded in agreement.

* * *

I know things in Echo Creek have been… well… bad. And honestly, I think it has taught you all a valuable lesson. You all want to know where your children are, or where their corpses are. Yet, there are more important things for me to tell you. Firstly, I must start with the how, when, and why. I took them away because you were all inept at parenting – particularly the Wong family. I took your child in after she was scarred permanently by acid.

Your child could have grown into a monster. And you gave her no help, nothing – I arranged counselling for her, despite the fact it was not my job. She was not my child but one day, she could be. I cared for her, fed her, allowed her freedom, although her appearance had drastically changed. I was not her parent, yet I seemed to love her twice as much as her real, biological kin. And it almost hurts to think that.

Mr and Mrs Wong. Brittney was not your child, so much as she was an extension of you. A manifestation of what you had been as a child, which was why neither of you loved her in the slightest. And as soon as the acid hit, she became an embarrassment. Neither of you wanted her, and it became an awkward situation for you to both admit. I was merely dumb luck, appearing out of nowhere to free your daughter from her terrible circumstances.

I have saved many lives. And yet, you all intend to put me to death. None of this would have happened if you had all simply loved and looked after your children. Now, my life is being cut short. I shall never have offspring, but your children…even in death, they will be my family.

As for the rest of your children, some of them are deceased, some are not.

Chantelle.

She was a monster, rotten at the core. I can name many things we diagnosed her with, but we would be here much too long. All you must know is that she is buried in the gardens, laid to rest with the dead roses – her favourite plants. I'm sure you presumed her to be alive, still, you sent me no letters. I left a contact number, and yet, it was never called. In fact, strangely enough, when I returned to this town, I found no missing posters for her.

Spare me your false tones, I am aware that you loved her as much as I did.

This, of course, means you never did love her.

Ed. I can hear you crying, and perhaps I would cry too, if I didn't see his death as inevitable.

He was a sweet child, perhaps slightly naïve. He deeply loved Echo Creek, so his corpse was transported back here, for his parents to give a proper burial. I was troubled by his death, and angered when I discovered who had caused it. Ed deserved none of this, but it seemed he was unloved too.

You never called the number. Nor did you write, just as Chantelle's parents did. Still, he was not rotten, an evil thing, so I believe he deserves a real burial.

Who caused his death, you ask?

That is an excellent question. The answer is rather simple. Marco Diaz was the ringleader. He led a hunt, and your children – all of your children – agreed to hunt Ed. I do not know why, but I recall that we had to send several of your children down to the basement labs for more studying, and punishment. It seemed the children were angered by something, but they never told us what it was.

There were several other deaths, but to be truthful, I think those two were the most important ones.

Most of the children are now missing, so they are unlikely to return. I highly doubt they are deceased.

The case that saddens me most was Alfonzo's. He simply vanished one day. The poor thing had lost his best friend, due to Marco Diaz's actions, yet again, and was attempting to find a friend in Janna, and everyone else at the school.

Marco had been provoking him for a lengthy amount of time, and it was then that I decided, for Alfonzo's, and Marco's, despite the little shit he was, safety, Alfonzo should be removed from the school for an extended period of time. I placed him in my private labs, where he made an excellent test subject.

Again, he received no counselling, no help – I had to do it all on my own. His parents were as atrocious as the rest.

His mind was splintered, he could barely remember who he was before Ferguson's death. I spent days down there, torturing him, degrading him, doing everything I could to him. And I planted the thought in his mind that it was Marco doing all of this to him, and he believed every word I breathed. I fired him up, so he would attack Marco.

And I was doing incredibly well, until one day; I visited again, and found he was gone. I have no idea where he went, or who aided his escape. As, you see, he could barely move by himself – he was like a little computer that I was reprogramming from scratch, so his disappearance made no sense. It had to have been an inside job.

We searched tirelessly for him, but he was gone without a trace. Considering the fact the school was located near the woods, I led the staff to them, where we found nothing. I came to the conclusion that the children had yet another hunt, and we retreated. All I really wish was that we knew where his body was.

I would give anything to see it, to touch it… so I could fuck it one last time.

* * *

Pandemonium ensued at their words, and John Doe burst into laughter as the entire court descended into angry voices shouting over one another, and agonised screams from Alfonzo's parents.

They didn't say a word as they were dragged out of the courtroom, a blissful smile spreading across their face.


	21. Star's 3 Days of Questioning (Day One)

**"This girl is slippery. There is no way of knowing whether she is being honest or not, so keep the questions simple. Your main focus for today is the frequent missions the school sent her on, and the formation of the "Death Duo." You will have three days to speak to her. No more, no less. Understood?"**

Yet again, they found themselves agreeing.

Notes:  
Star  
 _Questions_

* * *

The Death Duo? Um… well… I didn't really agree to the name, but it seems accurate, now that I think about it. We weren't always a duo, so it didn't seem right to start with – in fact, we were a group of four.

Marco called us his family. I don't think he remembered his parents very well. Anyway, every mission we were sent on broke some sort of law – sometimes we would return to Echo Creek, or we wouldn't be on Earth at all.

One time, we were sent on a mission to rob a house – it was the early days of our group of four. It involved me, Marco, Janna, and Brittney. I didn't like Brittney or Janna, to be truthful, but it seems sad that one of them is probably dead now.

Marco was very brutal. He murdered the children in the house very cruelly. Janna told him that he needed to "chill," and I didn't say much. I just wanted to go in and finish the mission – but then, they both started fighting.

I didn't see that much of the fight because Brittney dragged me upstairs, claiming she could hear footsteps. It turned out that she was correct – the children's parents were home, which meant we needed to get those two to stop.

Brittney said she would sort them out, and told me to take care of the parents. At this point, I had never killed anyone. It was always Marco who did the killing, so I was scared when I was told to take them out.

She had handed me a sharp knife before disappearing downstairs, and slowly, I had ascended the steps to get the parents. I saw the father, and I hesitated for a second too long. I was stood near the top of the staircase.

Just as I stabbed him in the stomach, his wife ran at me, pushing me down, which really hurt – I wasn't knocked out though, but I couldn't move. I yelled for help, and Marco came running. He seemed really panicky, but I think it was because the wife was running down the stairs with a vase in her hand.

So I gave Marco my knife, even though my wrists were sore, and he jabbed her in the side. It was not a nice sight – he put his foot on her face, sinking his foot further in until there was this horrible crunching noise.

And then he stabbed her repeatedly in the stomach, until she bled out onto the floor. I cried when he helped me up onto my feet – he was covered in her blood, and had dislocated her thumbs. Brittney and Janna got there with the money, and we all realised what Marco was doing.

He was chewing the flesh off the dead woman's fingers. It was disgusting, and both Janna and I tried to tell him to stop, but he wouldn't listen to us. If it wasn't for Brittney, I think we would have been caught. She told us both to go downstairs and set the timer for the bomb, then wait outside.

Janna and I listened, waited outside, but we were frightened. Neither of us knew what time to set the bomb to, so we had given Brittney ten minutes to talk some sense into Marco. I am sure it was the scariest ten minutes of my life.

But it soon turned to the ten most relieving minutes of my life, when Marco walked out, with bloody lips. I admit, even I thought cannibalism was going a little far.

But things only got worse from there, if I'm honest.

For the second mission, Janna and Marco entered the building, followed by Brittney and me. I asked Brittney what she told Marco to get him to leave, and she simply tapped her nose, telling me that what I didn't know didn't hurt me.

I still have no clue what she said to him, and when I asked Marco, he snapped at me. I didn't probe him any further, because I didn't want to be like the dead woman who had her flesh chewed from her body.

Our instructions were much simpler that time. We had been told to destroy the entire house, and kill everyone we found inside. Our handlers never told us why we had to destroy the entire house, but we looked around for stuff we liked.

Brittney stole some jewellery, Janna took money, and I helped myself to their electronics. I was still scared what Marco would do to them, since we hadn't been told _how_ to murder everyone inside the house.

Janna stumbled across two toddlers, twins, I think, and she grabbed one, throwing it into the aquarium in the living room. After it drowned, I fished the corpse out, because I wanted to dry the baby and show it to the parents.

The other twin was my responsibility, and Janna told me there were no limits. So I cradled the baby for a few minutes, wondering if I could take it back to school and nurse it, but then it occurred to me that looking after babies is hard, and time-consuming.

I just lost interest.

So I dropped the baby on the floor, headfirst. That didn't kill it, though. It was still mewling pathetically on the ground, so I drove my foot into it. Stomped on it until its cries ceased, and it stopped breathing.

It was very messy. My shoes got incredibly dirty – I had to wash them in the bathroom sink.

Brittney was trying on jewellery in the master bedroom, with the corpses of two men lying on the bed behind her. She didn't have any blood on her, but they had suspect scars on their throats, and the bedsheets were soiled.

I asked her where Marco was, and she told me that he had taken one of the babies. I went back down to check on Janna, and it turned out she was watching Marco bite into the baby's throat. I can't say that I was angry, because the baby was clearly dead.

It was the same baby that I had removed from the aquarium, before it sunk to the bottom. And now he was eating it. I turned away, and decided to look around upstairs. I had a look in the children's bedrooms.

What I found made me feel slightly guilty.

I know I could have saved a girl's life, but I didn't. Instead, I went to the toy chest and opened it, finding her in there. It was rather sad to think that she was so close to escaping death, and now it was my choice to let her live or die.

She had very sad eyes. I think she might have cried if I hadn't clamped a hand over her mouth and told her to be quiet, as I dragged her downstairs to face judgement from Marco and Janna. Brittney was still trying on jewellery.

Janna didn't seem interested, and asked if I saw anyone else. I said no, and she said she was going to turn on the gas, so the house could be set on fire.

Before I went to get Brittney, I heard the girl screaming. Well, I don't know if I would class it as screaming, because she was being flayed alive – the screams were guttural – I think Marco had taken her tongue out.

She probably drowned in her own blood. I'm not sure, because again, we all left the house calmly, but this time, Marco had severed a hand off one of the children's bodies, and was yet again chewing the flesh.

This time, none of us told him to stop. If it made him happy, it didn't matter anymore. But it was turning point for our group – because he was becoming dangerous.

 _What happened to your group after that?_

Well… our group broke up quite quickly. Brittney said she didn't like the fact Marco ate parts of the corpses, and neither did I, but she was allowed to quit, so from there we became a trio. However, without Brittney, our group started to fail.

Janna left us, and I realised that I didn't work that well with Marco. So I asked Axel if he would take me in, and he agreed – we formed a temporary group with Brittney again. We were a trio, and we worked amazingly together.

Unfortunately, Marco became really jealous. He'd found a new group too, with Justin, Pony Head and Ed. I was starting to… get along… with Axel, but then our group suddenly fell apart – Brittney started to hate Chantelle, because of…

Well, that's a long story for another day. But she departed, so that she could fight back against Chantelle, and Axel… I don't know. He just stopped talking to me all of a sudden. I knew I was kind of useless to the school by myself, so I had to go back to Marco.

I'm sure Marco was involved in the dissolution of our group, but he only became more violent, so I wasn't willing to look into it too much. He started being nicer to me, but I was still slightly scared of him.

He told me we didn't need anyone any more, and that we could get revenge on Echo Creek by ourselves. And that's how the final Death Duo was formed.

* * *

Star finished talking, her eyes scanning the entire room. She wondered how everyone felt, knowing that she had murdered, stolen, committed atrocities without blinking an eye.

Other prisoners claimed that there were riots after John's first day of questioning.

It was no surprise to her. Perhaps her words would also cause a riot.

She changed her face, from a cold glance, to crumpling, streaked with tears. And the sad part was that they fell for it. They saw, they pitied the monster _he_ had made her into.

Not so much of a flicker of a smile appeared on her face, as she was ushered out of the room. Her audience had not been loud – she could hear quiet mutters, a few sniffs, but mostly, just sad sighs.

Perhaps she would live.

* * *

 **I've been getting a LOT of questions lately, and at first, I had no idea how to answer them. However, because the story is actually more as I envisioned it, I can finally answer some FAQs. (Though a lot of them are: "Who's John Doe?" when I'm 90% sure I've already revealed it, but we'll see if anyone picks up on it).**

 **Q: Is this all flashback?  
A: Flashback seems a little too easy (somewhat... cheaty, if that makes sense) for this story, which is why I introduced "questioning chapters." So my answer to this, is mainly no, with the exception of two chapters. The concept of flashback is nice and all, but I simply feel like it doesn't always fit in with the story. I'm unsure if I'll use it again in the future.**

 **Q: What inspired this story?  
A: To be honest, just looking around at the archive and seeing all the formulaic stories (as in, Marco/Star develops a crush on Marco/Star, but Marco/Star like someone else, but then Marco/Star discovers they like Marco/Star and kick their crush to the curb) made me wonder if I could twist ideas out of shape. To start with, I imagined what a yandere!Starco story would be like, and originally started a oneshot on that. From there, I thought of making Star and Marco mentally unstable. From there, I came up with the concept for the "Diaz Death Duo," and started to come up with new ideas. My main inspiration is definitely seeing the fluff stories, and thinking how I could twist them.**

 **Q: What does the title mean?  
A: That's a good question. To be honest, the title means more than one thing to me, as the author. I don't intend to spoil anything, but the title focusses on the trial and... well... execution of the "Diaz Death Duo." I... literally cannot explain that any further. I mean, the story is based around their trial, how it affects them, and what they actually did to be put on trial.**

 **Q: Does Star love Marco? (otherwise phrased as: "Is there Starco?")  
A: Does Marco love Star?**

 **Q: Who's the antagonist of your story? (otherwise phrased as: "Is John Doe evil?")  
A: That's the point of my story :). The main characters are meant to do bad things, but the "Big Bads" also have moments of doing good. The point of the story is kind of like a character study of several characters' in this series dark side. Personally, I consider _everyone_ an antagonist in this story. But like, not completely antagonistic. (I really hope that made sense).**

 **Q: Are Marco and Star reliable narrators?  
A: We'll see.**

 **Thank you for all your questions. Feel free to ask more (providing they're not too spoilery)!**


	22. The Game Changes (Part 1)

**Overview: Brittney and Sabrina try to be civil, but someone has other plans. Star enlightens Alfonzo and Janna, embracing her newfound sense of independence… and loneliness.**

* * *

 **Alfonzo**

It hurt.

His entire body ached, as he groaned, stretching out on the stone ground below him. Next to him, he heard the clinking of chains – every few seconds or so, his body would shake and seize in fear.

Janna was clearly attempting to do her best to console him, but Alfonzo continued to thrash violently on the spot.

Seconds before his next seizure began, the heavy door opened, and there was another chink of chains. Alfonzo gasped, his eyes struggling in the dim light of what appeared to be some sort of holding cell.

The person who had opened the door stepped into view, revealing a calm woman in a tight looking dress. He frowned at the sight of their captor, and his chains clinked again, as he attempted to free himself.

In vain, of course.

She smiled when she saw him, and shook her head.

"Don't worry about the chains, Alfonzo. They won't be there much longer. I simply wanted to introduce myself to you both, before you're freed."

Janna swore, and Alfonzo dribbled. Nothing coherent could come out of his mouth.

"Honestly, you ought to hold your tongue, Janna. You're the poster child for this sort of place."

"Huh?"

"I'm truly impolite, aren't I? How could I forget to introduce myself… and this place? Goodness."

She brushes off invisible dust from her dress, clearing her throat.

"Welcome to St. Olga's Reform School for Wayward Children."

Alfonzo vomited, and Janna slunk away from him, her chains clinking.

"Oh dear." The woman's voice was unemotional and uncaring, as she drew closer to Alfonzo, her fingers gently tracing along his jaw until they stopped on his chin. She forcefully lifted his chin, and he shook in her grip.

"P-please…"

"Someone has… travel sickness. Poor thing." Alfonzo was still the wiser to know that her words were empty and monotone, measured out to give a degree of empathy. He forced himself to stop shaking, and she let go almost instantly.

Janna had watched with no reaction, instead, Alfonzo saw her take a breath.

"Are you Olga, then?"

The woman smiled. Well, it wasn't much of a smile as much as it was a smirk.

"I assume you heard the name wrong. It's _St_ Olga. Do I appear… deceased to you?"

She dared raise an eyebrow in reply, as Alfonzo sucked in a breath.

The woman grinned again. "My name is actually Ms Heinous. It's fantastic to meet you both. You're both very special to me."

Alfonzo was choking again, but kept his body upright, propped on a wall. His chains clinked together again and his legs jerked violently – Janna shot a look of concern in his direction.

"I'm sorry. That must be awfully uncomfortable."

He gritted his teeth as she barked out a command in a foreign language, and he was freed from his shackles. Alfonzo snuck a quick look at Janna, finding that she was also free – they shared a brief look of fear, before coming back to the main focus.

She was smiling ever so sweetly. It was almost sickening.

"There we are. I do hope you enjoy your time here."

The smile on her face clears, and a stern expression replaces it.

"Now, will you two follow me without complaint, or will I be forced to bind you both to me?"

Alfonzo's head bowed in submission, and Janna begrudgingly muttered "no." The smile that had been quick to vanish returned, and the heavy metal door swung open, leading them into a long corridor.

Eventually, they reached a corridor occupied by light blue doors, all with the letters 'EC' engraved on them. It took Alfonzo no more than a minute to realise what _EC_ stood for – he tried to keep himself from bolting, but it was surprisingly difficult.

Janna was on the other side of him, expressionlessly staring at the doors – until Ms Heinous gestured to a door marked with the exact same initials as the others.

This door seemed immaculate – there were no scuff marks, holes, or even signs of wear.

"This will be your room. We house up to three or four people in our rooms."

Janna thanks her, and Alfonzo stares in both horror and disbelief.

"I'm not finished yet, Janna. You both will receive key cards to unlock your doors. Woe betide you if you lose them." She breathes, approaching the door, lifting up the handle, revealing a slot to place the card in.

Then she pushes the door open, leaving it ajar.

"I hope you give a hearty new welcome to your roommate."

Janna looked like she had a sarcastic quip on the tip of her tongue, and was straining to hold it in. Alfonzo said nothing, blankly staring at Ms Heinous, who pressed the key cards into their hands. She waited for them to enter, before leaving.

* * *

 **Janna**

She closes the door behind her, as Alfonzo's light footsteps pad against the carpet. They had been so close to being alone, reflecting on the trap they had been led into, and trying to discover how Marco had been involved.

Janna scolds herself for playing detective where she wasn't needed.

That is, until she turns, discovering her new roommate staring her right in the face, with bright, excited eyes. A deep sigh works its way through her, and her fingers reach up to pinch the bridge of her nose.

 _Great._

They stand, smiling and waving excitedly.

"Hey, Janna! It's so good to see you again!" Star was back to her lively, vibrant self.

"Cut the bullshit." She harshly says, kicking off her boots, placing them to the side.

"It's hard to do this, you know," Star was glaring now, "pretending to be happy-go-lucky… all the fucking time. Heh. Fucking."

Janna rolled her eyes. "Yeah, whatever. Where's your er… boyfriend, then?"

"Hm? Tom? Well, he was alright at first-"

She forgot Alfonzo was in the room until he spoke.

"You know who she's talking about." His voice held no warmth.

Star grins.

"Yeah, I do. Marco, right? You're here to question me, aren't you?"

Janna thinks back to how she had just been irritated with herself for playing detective. But she still felt a need for closure, for answers that were probably much more trustworthy than whatever crap Marco had fed her.

"Why I'm here is a story not worth telling. What's more important is what happened to you and Marco."

Alfonzo nods, settling onto one of the four beds.

He crosses his legs, pulling his shoes off and pushing them underneath it. Star's cheeks light up and she smiles a little – though the smile no longer seems to be there due to happiness.

"I had a realisation. That Marco was, well, kind of evil."

 _No shit._

"I know he cared about me, but it occurred to me that he was poisonous. It occurred to me that _we_ were poisonous- our relationship, I mean – because I'm the reason Ferguson's dead. And I'm sorry for that – it made me realise that I shouldn't be with Marco anymore."

Janna sees Alfonzo wipe a tear away, and feels bitter hatred stir within her.

"We loved each other… I think. But we're better off without each other. I didn't want Marco going on a killing spree because he was scared I'd fall in love with someone else… and I didn't want him to snap and kill me and himself. It just… I felt trapped."

"Did he tell you… about when he visited me?" Janna felt it was appropriate to speak now.

Star scowled. "I know about how you dropped your pants for him."

She couldn't stop laughing at Star's harsh words and tone. It wasn't just her who had been fed lies by a guy who was completely out of his mind.

She wasn't the only idiot who felt obligated to believe him because of who he once was.

"That's a pretty literal way of putting it. The fucker had a knife to my throat, telling me about how much he loved you, and why he had to kill Ferguson and shit. He thought I was wearing a wire, and told me to take my clothes off… so yeah, I dropped my fucking pants for him. I didn't exactly want to die and leave Alfonzo by himself."

Her voice was snappy, with clear anger.

She had been silenced, and Janna felt rage and a sense of injustice seethe through her.

He had waltzed into her house, destroying one of her favourite outfits, proceeded to ruin her TV, and then had the fucking audacity to tell his girlfriend that she was a sex-crazed whore?

Janna frowned at the recollection.

 _That son of a bitch._

"D'you get it now? Why I left? John Doe, y'know the one that's been texting us all this time? She told me about this place, and it was the quickest way to be free from Marco. So I came here willingly."

Janna blinked rapidly, as did Alfonzo.

"Wait, hold on. She?" Alfonzo cocked his head to the side in questioning.

"Oh, come on. You seriously didn't connect the dots?"

Janna leaned forward in curiosity.

"What?"

"Did or didn't Ludo take you to this fuck-up of a place?"

"Yeah… but what does that have to do with John Doe?"

It was Star's turn to laugh.

"Oh, come on, Janna, you're meant to be the fucking smart one! Ludo and John Doe obviously are working together… and we got taken to this school in the middle of fucking nowhere, run by Ms Heinous."

Janna blinked again, dazed. "You can't be serious…"

"Why else would we get taken here? Ms Heinous is in cahoots with Ludo. Simple. Because Ms Heinous-"

"Is John Doe." She finished her sentence, her lips trembling. Curses streamed through her head as she threw an anxious glance in Alfonzo's direction.

"Bingo." She grinned.

He was visibly shaken as well, his fingers twitching and his eyes widening.

"How the fuck… do you know any of this?" The question slipped from Janna before she could stop it.

Star smiled.

"It took me a while, but I realised that John Doe pushed Ferguson to go to Quest Buy. Marco wasn't meant to kill him, because John wanted to kill us all by setting it on fire. They knew Ferguson was the easy target, and if he went to Quest Buy, we all would have to go. When that fucked up, because of Marco, she resorted to blackmailing us. Then she realised that Marco was losing his grip on me and took advantage of it. I know it's her… the message she sent me-"

She glanced up again, interrupting Star's story.

"Wait, Ms… um, John Doe… sent you a message?"

"Yeah. It was really formal… and I'm pretty sure Ludo doesn't write like that. Whilst we were in the carriage to this place, Ludo was talking to one of his minions about how he'd broken _her_ orders. Idiot didn't think to say 'their orders.' I don't know what that was about, but it's clear Ludo and Ms Heinous aren't best friends at the moment."

Janna blinked.

"All this time, she was messing with us."

Star nods wordlessly, going back to playing with her hair.

"And now we're prisoners… on some random dimension… where nobody'll find us…"

Star smiles cynically. "I don't think it's just us. I have a feeling we'll have company soon."

Alfonzo asked the question this time.

"What makes you say that?"

She smiles, flashing her teeth at them. "There's a whole block dedicated to our little town. Gods know what Ms Heinous has in store for it."

Janna couldn't breathe when the realisation hit her that she was planning to make deals with someone who'd been working against them all this time, and had actively led Alfonzo to danger.

She really was a moron, wasn't she?

"Godammit… We have to stop this, Star."

Star shakes her head. "Not gonna happen, Janna. Ms Heinous has this shit planned down to the smallest detail. I think it'll be fun to see this unfold."

Alfonzo glowers furiously.

"We can't just stay here… and let it happen; Ms Heinous is going to rip our town apart… holy shit. I can't believe this."

Star opened her mouth, only for the sound of an intercom to replace whatever she had planned to say.

Ms Heinous' voice came over the intercom, informing them that supper was ready, and it was mandatory for them to attend.

Janna wasn't sure if she'd ever been so enraged in her life.

* * *

 **Star**

In relief, she rose from the bed, feeling Janna's determined gaze burn into her. She snatched up her key card from the bed, walking over to the door, indifferent to whether they followed her or not.

The sound of their footsteps behind her assured her that they had.

She was walking between them both, with Janna on her left and Alfonzo her right.

Janna continued to plead for her to act against Ms Heinous, and Star continued to ignore her. Alfonzo said nothing during their walk to the dining hall – they arrived to a large, spacious hall that none of them had seen before.

Ludo wasn't waiting at the door for them, and neither was Ms Heinous. Star breathed deeply, entering with her head high – walking past the rows of tables until she found the one that had been reserved for Echo Creek.

Janna sullenly sank into the seat next to her, and Alfonzo sat opposite her. The three watched as more students entered – Star paid little heed to them, wondering if anyone else from Echo Creek would arrive.

Ten minutes had passed, and Ms Heinous had entered. Supper was likely to be a dull affair. Star sadly looked away from the main table – it was a shame she had no real people she wished to converse with.

Janna was pestering her, Alfonzo appeared to be trying to be mute, and everyone else had their own little friendship groups. She was staring sadly into her soup, thinking of how Marco would've growled at Janna for sitting next to her.

He likely would have slit Alfonzo's throat if he knew that he had spoken to her without his permission. Perhaps he would've cut her throat as well.

That was, if he found her – it seemed inevitable that he would.

Star was lost in thought, so when a hush swept over the room and the doors opened, revealing Brittney and Sabrina, she made no comment. She sensed Janna stiffen, but continued to remain lost in her own thoughts.

Ms Heinous was scolding them for entering later than her, and they probably were meekly apologising. All Star knew was that people had arrived late, and the chance of one of the late people being Marco was incredibly slim.

It really didn't interest her.

She had told Janna that she didn't want him anyway, and was beginning to regret that. If she talked about him too much, she'd give herself away much too easily.

Star opened her eyes.

To see Brittney glaring at her through the one eye that still worked. Star stifled a giggle at what she had done to the once proud, vain girl. Sabrina meekly stayed by Brittney's side, as a low growl erupted from her.

"You."

"Yes, me, Star Butterfly of Mewni." The laughter was working its way through her throat – Janna shot a concerned look in her direction, before resting her hands on the table, attempting to resign herself.

"Let's all just stay calm…" She trailed off, seeing that Brittney was quietly counting to ten under her breath.

Star continued to look like she was ready to laugh – occasionally glancing at her bowl of soup, next to her meal.

She drank some of the soup, doing what she could to prevent herself from slurping.

A small snort came out when she saw Brittney attempt to drink her soup – the one eye gave her a threatening look, and she stared back down at her food.

 _Poor Brittney_.

Star could almost empathise with her.

She knew what it was like to be locked in one place, to be restricted a strict schedule… to feel controlled by someone else.

She bit her lip, and felt tears prick her eyes at the sad sight before her.

 _Poor, poor girl. She was a little vain, that was all. And look what Marco did to her!_

 _Not us, it was never us. It's all his fault._

 _And I want him to come back. I want more chaos._

 _Even though it ruins everyone. This poor, poor girl and her poor, poor life._

Her grip on her fork tightened, as she watched Brittney eat. She ate like her mouth hadn't been damaged, like one of her eyes didn't cease to function – with a sense of dignity that Star felt she deserved after all that had happened to her.

It was such a shame that Brittney had to suffer like that.

Star was not conscious that she was slowly lifting herself up from her chair, slowly getting onto the table. With her fork in hand, she was unstoppable – she saw the look of horror flash on Janna's face, then felt pity hit her again as her eyes flitted over to Brittney.

Star didn't realise what she was doing when she launched herself at Brittney, sinking her fork into her arm.

Even when Brittney released a howl of pain, and scrambled for her own fork, Star didn't know she was hurting her.

Blood dripped onto the table, with no known owner, and a silence filled the otherwise animated hall.

Ms Heinous looked up from her food in horror, to see two girls attacking one another like wild animals.

Star continued stabbing Brittney with her fork, even though she could hear Janna, Sabrina and Alfonzo all begging her to stop.

She had lost control over her arm, which kept inserting the fork, only to yank it out seconds later in rapid succession. Star feels strong arms wrap themselves around her own, but continues to stab desperately.

Something gently touches her neck, and she grows limp.

She can feel Marco's hands around her throat, tightening and tightening until drawing breath is a difficulty and black spots form in her vision.

But she doesn't worry, because Marco's on Earth, somewhere where he can't hurt her.

Instead, Star allows the strange warmth of the darkness to envelope her.


End file.
